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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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https://archive.org/details/misercomedyinfivOOmoli 


THE  MISER 


A COMEDY 

IN  FIVE  ACTS 


BY 

MOLIERE 


TRANSLATED  BY 

HENRI  VAN  LAUN 


CHICAGO 

THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE. 


Ravpha'Park,  Sept.  2,  1907. 

Harpagon,  father  to  Cleante  and  Elise,  in  love 

with  Mariane. . . . .Donald  Robertson 

Cleante,  Harp  agon's  son , Mariane' s lover. . 

'. Edward  Longman 

Valere,  son  of  Anselm  e,  Elise' s lover 

.Milton  Sills 

Anselme,  father  to  Valere  and  Mariane ... . 

Hermann  Lieb 

Master  Simon,  agent J.  R.  Barse 

Master  Jacques,  cook  and  coachman  to  Har- 

pagon James  Nelson 

La  Fleche,  Cleante' s valet Adolph  Pierrot 

Brindavoine,  ) -rr  . , 7 . ( S.  Sims 

La  MerlucheJ^^0”'  lacque/s.^  Nqyes 

A Magistrate A.  Raymond 

Elise,  Harp  agon's  daughter,  Valere' s szveet- 

heart Anna  Titus 

Mariane,  Cleante's  sweetheart , beloved  by 

Harp  agon Elinor  Foster 

Frosine,  a designing  woman.  .Marion  Redlich 

Mistress  Claude,  Harpagon's  servant 

Alice  John 

The  scene  is  in  Paris,  in  Harpagon's  House. 


Copyright,  1907,  by  The  Dramatic  Publishing  Company. 


THE  MISER. 


ACT  I. 

Valere  and  Elise. 

Val.  [Down  C.]  Eh,  what!  charming  Elise, 
you  are  growing  melancholy,  after  the  kind  as- 
surances which  you  were  good  enough  to  give 
me  of  your  love!  [Elise  goes  to  table  L.;  sits.] 
Alas ! I see  you  sighing  in  the  midst  of  my  joy ! 
Tell  me,  is  it  with  regret  at  having  made  me 
happy?  And  do  you  repent  of  that  engagement 
to  which  my  affection  has  induced  you  ? 

El.  [Turns  to  him.]  No,  Valere,  I cannot 
repent  of  anything  that  I do  for  you.  I feel  my- 
self attracted  to  it  by  too  sweet  a power,  and  I 
have  not  even  the  will  to  wish  that  things  were 
otherwise.  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  our  success 
causes  me  uneasiness ; and  I am  very  much  afraid 
of  loving  you  a little  more  than  I ought. 

Val.  Eh ! what  is  there  to  fear,  Elise,  in  the 
affection  you  have  for  me?  [Crosses  to  her.] 

El.  Alas  ! a hundred  things  at  once : the  anger 
of  a father,  the  reproaches  of  my  family,  the  cen- 
sure of  the  world  [Val.  drops  R .]  ; but  more  than 
all,  Valere,  the  change  of  your  heart,  and  that 
criminal  coolness  with  which  those  of  your  sex 
most  frequently  repay  the  too  ardent  proofs  of 
an  innocent  love. 

Val.  [Turns.]  Ah!  do  not  wrong  me  thus,  to 
3 


633185 


THE  MISER 


judge  me  by  others!  Suspect  me  of  anything, 
Elise,  rather  than  of  failing  in  my  duty  to  you. 
I love  you  too  well  for  that ; and  my  affection  for 
you  will  last  as  long  as  my  life.  [Up  C.] 

El.  Ah ! Valere,  every  one  talks  in  the  same 
strain!  All  men  are  alike  in  their  words;  their 
actions  only  show  them  to  be  different. 

Val.  Since  actions  only  can  show  what  we 
are,  wait  then,  at  least,  to  judge  of  my  heart  by 
them;  and  do  not  search  for  crimes  because  you 
unjustly  fear,  and  wrongly  anticipate.  Pray  do 
not  kill  me  with  the  poignant  blows  of  an  out- 
rageous suspicion ; and  give  me  time  to  convince 
you,  by  many  thousand  proofs,  of  the  sincerity 
of  my  affection.  [ Elise  rises.] 

El.  Alas,  how  easily  we  are  persuaded  by 
those  we  love!  [They  embrace.]  Yes,  Valere,  I 
hold  your  heart  incapable  of  deceiving  me.  I 
believe  that  you  truly  love  me,  and  that  you  will 
be  constant.  I will  no  longer  doubt  of  it,  and  I 
will  confine  my  grief  to  the  apprehensions  of  the 
blame  which  people  may  utter  against  me. 

Val.  But  why  this  uneasiness  ? 

El.  I should  have  nothing  to  fear,  if  every 
one  could  see  you  with  the  eyes  with  which  I 
look  upon  you ; and  in  your  own  person  I see  suf- 
ficient to  justify  me  in  what  I do  for  you.  For 
its  defence,  my  heart  pleads  all  your  merit,  as 
well  as  that  ardent  affection, 'which  neither  time 
nor  obstacles  have  been  able  to  discourage,  and 
which  detains  you  in  this  spot,  keeps  your  posi- 
tion unrecognized,  all  on  my  account,  and  has 
reduced  you  to  assume  the  functions  of  servant 
to  my  father,  in  order  to  see  me.  All  this  pro- 
duces, no  doubt,  a marvelous  effect  on  me,  and 


THE  MISER 


5 


quite  sufficient  to  justify,  in  my  own  eyes,  the 
engagement  to  which  I have  consented  [Conies 
to  him]  ; but  it  is  not  perhaps  enough  to  justify 
it  in  that  of  others,  and  I am  not  certain  that  the 
world  will  enter  into  my  sentiments. 

Val.  Of  all  that  you  have  mentioned,  it  is 
only  by  my  love  that  I pretend  to  deserve  any- 
thing from  you;  and  as  for  the  scruples  which 
you  have,  your  father  himself  takes  but  too  good 
care  to  justify  you  before  the  world  [Elise  goes 
to  table  i?.]  ; and  the  excess  of  his  avarice,,  and 
the  austere  way  in  which  he  treats  his  children, 
might  authorise  stranger  things  still.  Pardon 
me,  charming  Elise,  for  speaking  thus  before 
you.  [Around  L.  of  table.]  You  know  that,  on 
that  subject,  no  good  can  be  said.  But  in  short, 
if  I can,  as  I hope  I shall,  find  my  relatives  again, 
we  shall  have  very  little  difficulty  in  rendering 
them  favourable  to  us.  I am  impatient  to  receive 
some  tidings  of  them ; and  should  they  be  delayed 
much  longer,  I will  myself  go  in  search  ofij||pm 
El.  [In  his  arms.]  Ah!  Valere,  do  notStiJL 
irom  this,  I beseech  you  [Turns  azvay] ; anp 
think  only  how  to  ingratiate  yourself  with  myk 
father.  "■ — 

Val.  You  see  how  I go  about  it,  and  the  art- 
ful wheedling  which  I have  been  obliged  to  make 
use  of  to  enter  his  service ; beneath  what  mask  of 
sympathy  and  affinity  of  sentiments  I disguise 
myself,  in  order  to  please  him;  and  what  part 
I daily  play  with  him,  that  I may  gain  his  affec- 
tion. I am  making  admirable  progress  in  it ; and 
experience  teaches  me  that  to  find  favour  witffi 
men,  there  is  no  better  method  than  to  invest  our- 
selves in  their  eyes  with  their  hobbies  [Down 


i 


6 


THE  MISER 


L.]  ; than  to  act  according  to  their  maxims,  to 
flatter  their  faults  and  to  applaud  their  doings. 
Tine  needs  not  fear  to  overdo  this  complaisance ; 
the  way  in  which  one  fools  them  may  be  as  palpa- 
ble as  possible ; even  the  sharpest  are  the  great- 
est dupes  when  flattery  is  in  the  question ; and 
there  is  nothing  too  impertinent  or  too  ridiculous 
for  them  to  swallow,  if  it  be  only  seasoned  with 
praises.  Sincerity  suffers  somewhat  by  the  trade 
which  I follow ; but,  when  we  have  need  of  peo- 
ple, we  must  suit  ourselves  to  their  tastes ; and 
since  they  are  to  be  gained  over  only  in  that  way, 
it  is  not  the  fault  of  those  who  flatter,  but  of 
those  who  wish  to  be  flattered. 

El.  But  why  do  you  not  try  to  gain  the  sup- 
port of  my  brother,  in  case  the  servant  should 
take  it  into  her  head  to  reveal  our  secret  ? 

Val.  There  is  no  managing  them  both'  at 
once ; and  the  disposition  of  the  father  and  that 
of  the  son  are  so  opposed  to  each  other,  that  it 
becomes  difficult  to  arrange  a confidence  with 
both.  But  you,  on  your  part,  act  upon  your 
brother,  and  make  use  of  the  affection  between 
you  two,  to  bring  him  over  to  our  interests.  He 
is  just  coming.  I go.  Take  this  opportunity 
•^,of  speaking  to  him.  [Exit.] 

El.  I do  not  know  whether  I shall  have  the 
courage  to  entrust  this  confidence  to  him. 

[ Enter  Cleante.] 

Cle.  I am  very  glad  to  find  you  alone,  sister ; 
I was  dying  to  speak  to  you,  to  unburden  myself 
to  you  of  a secret.  [Takes  Elise  to  table  R.  Sits 
above . Elise  L.  of  table.] 

El.  You  find  me  quite  ready  to  listen, 
brother.  What  have  you  to  tell  me? 


THE  MISER  7 

Cle.  Many  things,  sister,  all  contained  in  one 
word.  I am  in  love. 

El.  You  are  in  love? 

Cle.  Yes,  I am  in  love.  But  before  going 
farther,  I know  that  I am  dependent  on  my 
father,  and  that  the  name  of  son  subjects  me  to 
his  will ; that  we  ought  not  to  pledge  our  affec- 
tion without  the  consent  of  those  to  whom  we 
owe  our  life;  that  Heaven  has  made  them  the 
masters  of  our  affection,  and  that  we  are  enjoined 
not  to  dispose  of  it  but  by  their  direction ; 
that  not  being  biased  by  any  foolish  pas- 
sion, they  are  less  likely  to  deceive  themselves 
than  we  are,  and  to  see  much  better  what  is 
proper  for  us ; that  we  ought  rather  to  be  guided 
by  the  light  of  their  prudence  than  by  the  blind- 
ness of  our  passion;  and  that  the  ardour  of  our 
youth  often  drags  us  to  dangerous  precipices.  I 
tell  you  all  this,  sister,  that  you  may  save  your- 
self the  trouble  of  telling  it  to  me ; for,  in  short, 
my  love  will  not  listen  to  anything,  and  I pray 
you  not  to  make  any  remonstrances. 

El.  Have  you  pledged  yourself,  brother,  with 
her  whom  you  love? 

Cle.  No;  but  I am  determined  to  do  so,  and 
I implore  you,  once  more,  not  to  advance  any 
reasons  to  dissuade  me  from  it. 

El.  Am  I then  so  strange  a person,  brother? 

Cle.  No,  sister ; but  you  are  not  in  love ; you 
are  ignorant  of  the  sweet  empire  which  a tender 
passion  exercises  over  our  hearts;  and  I dread 
your  wisdom. 

El.  [Rises.]  Alas!  dear  brother,  let  us  not 
speak  of  my  wisdom;  there  is  no  one  who  does 
not  fail  in  it,  at  least  once  in  his  life  [Around 


8 


THE  MISER 


back  of  chair ] ; and  were  I to  open  my  heart  to 
you,  perhaps  I would  appear  less  wise  in  your 
eyes  than  yourself. 

Cle.  Ah!  would  to  Heaven  that  your  heart, 
like  mine  . . . 

El.  Let  us  first  finish  your  affair,  and  tell  me 
who  it  is  whom  you  love.  [Drops  down  R .;  sits 
on  sofa.] 

Cle.  [Crosses  to  her.]  A young  person,  who 
has  lately  come  to  live  in  this  neighborhood,  and 
who  seems  to  be  made  to  inspire  love  in  all  who 
behold  her.  Nature,  sister,  has  created  nothing 
more  amiable;  and  I felt  myself  carried  away 
the  moment  I saw  her.  Her  name  is  Mariane, 
and  she  lives  under  the  protection  of  a good 
motherly  woman  who  is  nearly  always  ill,  and  for 
whom  this  dear  girl  entertains  feelings  of  affec- 
tion not  to  be  imagined.  Ah ! sister,  I wish  you 
could  have  seen  her!  [Crosses  up  C.] 

El.  I see  much,  brother,  in  the  things  you 
tell  me;  and  to  understand  what  she  really  is,  it 
is  sufficient  that  you  love  her. 

Cle.  I have  learned,  secretly,  that  they  are 
not  too  well  off ; and  that  even  their  careful  way 
of  living  has  some  difficulty  in  making  both  ends 
meet  with  the  small  means  at  their  command. 
[Crosses  with  Elise  C.]  Imagine,  dear  sister, 
the  pleasure  it  must  be  to  improve  the  condition 
jof  her  whom  we  love;  to  convey  delicately  some 
small  assistance  to  the  modest  wants  of  a virtuous 
family;  and  then  conceive  how  annoying  it  is  to 
me  to  find  myself,  through  the  avarice  of  a 
father,  powerless  to  taste  that  joy,  and  to  be  un- 
able to  show  this  fair  one  any  proof  of  my  love. 


THE  MISER  9 

El.  Yes,  I can  conceive  well  enough,  brother, 
what  must  be  your  grief. 

Cle.  Ah!  sister,  it  is  greater  than  you  can 
believe.  If  your  affairs,  sister,  are  similar  to 
mine,  and  if  our  father  runs  counter  to  our 
wishes,  we  shall  both  leave  him,  and  emancipate 
ourselves  from  that  tyranny  in  which  his  insup- 
portable avarice  has  so  long  held  us.  , ^ 

El.  It  is  true  enough  that  every  day  he  gives 
us  more  cause  to  regret  the  death  of  our  mother, 
and  that  [ Crosses  L.  to  table.] 

Cle.  I hear  his  voice ; let  us  go  a little  farther 
to  finish  our  confidences ; and  afterwards  we  will 
join  our  forces  to  attack  the  ruggedness  of  his 
temper.  [Crosses  L.  Exeunt.] 

[Enter  Harpagon,  La  Fleche.]  ^ 

Har.  Clear  out  of  this  immediately,  and  let 
me  have  no  reply!  Get  away  out  of  my  house, 
you  consummate  cheat,  you  true  gallow’s  bird. 
[Throws  La  Fleche  to  C .] 

La  Fl.  [Aside.]  I have  never  seen  anything 
more  vicious  than  this  cursed  old  man. 

Har.  [Walks  up  and  down  L.]  You  are  mut- 
tering between  your  teeth ! 

La  F'l.  Why  are  you  sending  me  away? 

Har.  It  well  becomes  you,  you  hang-dog,  to 
ask  me  my  reasons.  Out  with  you,  quickly,  that 
I may  not  knock  you  down. 

La  Fl.  What  have  I done  to  you? 

Har.  You  have  done  so  much  to  me  that  I 
wish  you  to  get  out. 

La  Fl.  Your  son,  my  master,  has  ordered  me 
to  wait. 

Har.  Go  and  wait  for  him  in  the  street,  then ; 


IO 


THE  MISER 


but  do  not  remain  in  my  house,  planted  bolt  up- 
right as  a sentry,  taking  notice  of  everything  that 
goes  on,  and  making  the  best  use  of  it.  I will  not 
have  a spy  of  my  concerns  eternally  before  my 
eyes,  a wretch,  whose  cursed  eyes  watch  every 
one  of  my  actions,  covet  all  I have,  and  ferret 
about  everywhere  to  see  if  there  is  nothing  to 
pilfer. 

La  Fl.  [Drops  to  C.]  How  the  deuce  could 
one  manage  to  rob  you  ? Are  you  a likely  man 
to  have  aught  stolen  from  you,  when  you  lock 
up  everything,  and  keep  guard  day  and  night? 

Har.  I shall  lock  up  whatever  I think  fit,  and 
keep  guard  as  long  as  I please.  A nice  pass  it 
has  come  to  with  these  spies,  who  take  notice  of 
everything  one  does.  [Softly  aside.]  I quake 
for  fear  he  should  suspect  something  about  my 
money.  [Aloud.]  Ah!  are  you  not  just  the  fel- 
low who  would  think  nothing  of  bruiting  the  tale 
about  that  I have  money  hidden  in  my  house  ? 

La  Fl.  You  have  money  hidden? 

Har.  No,  you  scoundrel,  I do  not  say  that. 
[To  himself.]  I am  bursting  with  rage.  [Aloud.] 
I ask  whether  you  would  not,  from  sheer  malice, 
bruit  the  story  about  that  I have  some. 

La  Fl.  Eh  ! what  does  it  matter  to  us  whether 
you  have  any  or  not,  as  long  as  it  comes  to  the 
same  thing  to  us? 

Har.  [Lifting  up  his  hand,  to  slap  La  Fleche’ s 
face.]  You  are  arguing  the  matter!  I will  give 
you  something  for  this  reasoning  on  your  ears. 
Once  more,  get  out  of  this. 

La  Fl.  Very  well!  I am  going.  [Goes  up  iL] 

Har.  W ait : you  are  not  taking  anything  away 
with  you  ? 


THE  MISER 


ii 


La  Fl.  What  should  I take  from  you? 

Har.  I do  not  know  until  I look.  Show  me 
your  hands? 

La  Fl.  Here  they  are. 

Har.  The  others. 

La  Fl.  The  others? 

Har.  Yes. 

La  Fl.  Here  they  are. 

Har.  [ Pointing  to  the  breeches  of  La  Fleche.] 
Have  you  put  nothing  in  there  ? 

La  Fl.  Look  for  yourself? 

Har.  [Feeling  the  outside  of  La  Fie  che’s 
pockets.\  Those  wide  breeches  are  just  fit  to  be- 
come receivers  for  things  purloined,  and  I wish 
one  of  them  had  been  hanged  at  the  gallows. 

La  Fl.  [Aside.]  Ah,  how  a man  like  this 
well  deserves  the  thing  he  fears ! and  how  much 
pleasure  I would  have  in  robbing  him ! 

Har.  Eh?  [Searching  around  7?.] 

La  Fl.  What! 

Har.  What  are  you  muttering  about  robbing  ? 

La  Fl.  I am  saying  that  you  feel  carefully 
everywhere  to  see  if  I have  robbed  you. 

Har.  That  is  what  I mean  to  do.  [Harp agon 
fumbles  in  La  Fleche’ s pockets.] 

La  Fl.  [Aside.]  May  the  plague  take  avarice 
and  all  avaricious  people ! 

Har.  What ! what  are  you  saying  ? 

La  Fl.  What  am  I saying? 

Har.  Yes ; what  are  you  saying  about  avarice 
and  avaricious  people? 

La  Fl.  I say  may  the  plague  take  avarice  and 
all  avaricious  people. 

Har.  To  whom  are  you  alluding? 

La  Fl.  To  avaricious  people. 


12 


THE  MISER 


Har.  And  who  are  they,  these  avaricious  peo- 
pie? 

La  Fl.  Villains  and  curmudgeons. 

Har.  But  whom  do  you  mean  by  that? 

La  Fl.  What  are  you  troubling  yourself 
about  ? 

Har.  I am  troubling  myself  about  what  con- 
cerns me. 

La  Fl.  Do  you  think  that  I am  speaking  of 
you  ? 

Har.  I think  what  I think ; but  x wisn  you  to 
tell  me  to  whom  you  are  addressing  yourself 
when  you  say  that. 

La  Fl.  I am  addressing  myself  ...  I am 
addressing  myself  to  my  cap. 

Har.  And  I might  address  myself  to  the  head 
that  is  in  it. 

La  Fl.  Will  you  prevent  me  from  cursing 
avaricious  people? 

Har.  No  ; but  I will  prevent  you  from  Jab- 
bering, and  from  being  insolent.  Hold  your 
tongue ! [ Crosses  L . ] 

La  Fl.  I name  no  one. 

Har.  Will  you  hold  your  tongue? 

La  Fl.  Yes,  against  my  will, 

Har.  Ah  ! Ah  ! 

La  Fl.  [Showing  Harpagon  a pocket  in  his 
doublet.]  Just  look,  there  is  another  pocket;  are 
you  satisfied  ? 

Har.  Come,  you  had  better  give  it  up  with- 
out my  searching  you.  [Comes  to  him.] 

La  Fl.  What? 

Har.  What  you  have  taken  from  me. 

La  Fl.  I have  taken  nothing  at  all  from  you. 

Har.  Assuredly  ? 


THE  MISER 


13 


La  Fl.  Assuredly. 

Har.  Good-bye,  then,  and  go  to  the  devil. 

La  Fl.  [Aside.]  That  is  a prettv  dismissal. 
[Exit  up  R.] 

Har.  I leave  you  to  your  own  conscience,  at 
least.  + 

There  is  a hang-dog  of  a valet  who  is  very 
much  in  my  way ; I do  not  at  all  care  to  see  this 
limping  cur  about  the  place./  It  certainly  no  small 
trouble  to  keep  such  a large  sum  of  money  in 
one’s  house  [Sits  R.  C.]  ; and  he  is  a happy  man 
who  has  all  his  well  laid  out  at  interest,  and  keeps 
only  so  much  by  him  as  is  necessary  for  his  ex- 
penses. One  is  not  a little  puzzled  to  contrive, 
in  the  whole  house,  a safe  hiding-place;  for,  as 
far  as  I am  concerned,  I distrust  safes,  and 
would  never  rely  on  them.  I look  upon  them 
just  as  a distinct  bait  to  burglars ; for  it  is  always 
the  first  thing  which  they  attack.  [Rises.] 

[Enter  Elise  and  Cleante,  conversing  together 
at  hack  of  the  stage.] 

Har.  [Still  thinking  himself  alone.]  For  all 
that,  I am  not  quite  sure  if  I have  done  right  in 
burying  in  my  garden  these  ten  thousand  crowns, 
which  were  paid  to  me  yesterday!  Ten  thousand 
golden  crowns  in  one’s  house  is  a sum  sufficient 
. . . [Aside,  perceiving  Elise  and  Cleante] 

O,  Heavens ! I have  betrayed  myself ! The  ex- 
citement has  carried  me  too  far,  and  I verily  be- 
lieve I have  spoken  aloud,  while  arguing  to  my- 
self. [To  Cleante  and  Elise.]  What  is  the  mat- 
ter? 

Cle.  Nothing,  father. 

Har,  Have  you  been  there  long? 


14 


THE  MISER 


El.  We  were  just  coming  in. 

Har.  You  have  heard  . . . 

Cle.  What,  father?  [Drops  L.  C.] 

Har.  There  . . . 

El.  What? 

Har.  What  I said  just  now. 

Cle.  No. 

Har.  Yes,  you  have. 

El.  I beg  your  pardon. 

Har.  I see  well  enough  that  you  overheard 
some  words.  I was  talking  to  myself  about  the 
difficulty  one  experiences  now-a-days  in  finding 
money,  and  I was  saying  how  pleasant  it  must  be 
to  have  ten  thousand  crowns  in  the  house.  [Cle. 
drops  C.  to  Har.] 

Cle.  We  hesitated  to  speak  to  you,  for  fear 
of  interrupting  you.  [Elise  walks  toward  C.] 

Har.  I am  very  glad  to  tell  you  this,  so  that 
you  may  not  take  things  the  wrong  way,  and  im- 
agine that  I said  that  I myself  had  ten  thousand 
crowns. 

Cle.  We  have  no  wish  to  enter  into  your 
concerns. 

Har.  Would  to  Heaven  that  I had  them,  ten 
thousand  crowns!  [Drops  R.,  turns  up  L.] 

Cle.  I do  not  think  . . . 

Har.  It  would  be  a capital  affair  for  me. 

El.  These  are  things  . . . 

Har.  I am  greatly  in  need  of  them. 

Cle.  I think  . . . 

Har.  That  would  suit  me  very  well. 

El.  You  are  . . . 

Har.  And  I should  not  have  to  complain,  as 
I do  now,  about  the  hard  times. 

Cle.  Good  Heavens!  father,  you  have  no 


THE  MISER  15 

need  to  complain,  and  we  know  that  you  have 
wealth  enough. 

Har.  How!  I wealth  enough!  [Up  L.  turns.] 
Those  who  say  so  surely  tell  a lie.  Nothing  could 
be  more  false. 

El.  Do  not  put  yourself  in  a rage. 
above  table  R.] 

Har.  A strange  thing,  that  my  own  children 
should  betray  me,  and  become  my  enemies. 

Cle.  Is  it  becoming  your  enemy  to  say  that 
you  have  wealth?  [Up  C.] 

Har.  Yes.  Such  talk  and  the  expenses  you 
indulge  in  will  be  the  cause  that  one  of  these 
fine  days  people  will  come  and  cut  my  throat,  in 
my  own  house,  in  the  belief  that  I am  stuffed 
with  gold  pieces. 

Cle.  What  great  expenses  do  I indulge  in? 
[Up  R.  C.] 

Har.  Expenses  ? Can  anything  be  more 
scandalous  than  this  sumptuous  attire,  which  you 
exhibit  about  the  town?  I scolded  your  sister 
yesterday;  but  this  is  much  worse.  This  cries 
aloud  to  Heaven  for  vengeance ; for,  take  you 
from  top  to  toe,  there  is  enough  to  ensure  a 
handsome  competency.  I have  told  you  twenty 
times,  son,  that  all  your  manners  displease  me; 
you  are  furiously  aping  the  aristocrasy  [Cle. 
drops  down  R.  C.]  ; and  to  go  dressed  as  you  do, 
you  must  rob  me. 

Cle.  Eh ! how  rob  you  ? 

Har.  How  do  I know?  Where  can  you  get 
the  means  of  keeping  up  such  an  appearance? 

Cle.  I,  father  ? It  is  because  I play ; and,  as 
I am  very  lucky,  I put  my  winnings  on  my  back. 
[Drops  down  R.  below  table.] 


i6 


THE  MISER 


Har.  That  is  very  bad.  If  you  are  lucky  at 
play,  you  should  profit  by  it,  and  lay  out  the 
money  you  win  at  decent  interest,  that  you  may 
provide  for  a rainy  day.  I should  much  like  to 
know%  leaving  all  other  things  aside,  what  the 
good  can  be  of  all  these  ribbons  with  which  you 
are  decked  out  from  head  to  foot,  and  if  half-a- 
dozen  tacks  are  not  sufficient  to  fasten  your 
breeches.  Is  it  at  all  necessary  to  spend  money 
upon  wigs,  when  one  can  wear  hair  of  home 
growth,  which  costs  nothing!  I would  bet  that 
your  wig  and  ribbons  cost  far  more  than  twenty 
pistoles ; and  twenty  pistoles,  at  a little  more  than 
eight  per  cent,  bring  in  eighteen  livres,  six  pence, 
and  eight  groats  a year. 

Cle.  You  are  perfectly  right.  [Turns  up  to 
Elise.] 

Har.  Let  us  leave  the  subject,  and  talk  of 
other  things.  [Perceiving  that  Cleante  and  Elise 
interchange  glances.]  Eh!  [Softly,  aside]  I 
believe  that  they  are  making  signs  to  each  other 
to  rob  me  of  my  purse.  [Aloud. ] What  mean 
those  gestures? 

El.  My  brother  and  I are  arguing  who  shall 
speak  first.  We  have  each  something  to  say  to 
you. 

Har.  And  I have  something  to  say  to  you 
both.  [Sits,  up  L.  C.] 

Cle.  It  is  about  marriage  that  we  wish  to 
speak  to  you,  father. 

Har.  And  it  is  also  about  marriage  that  I 
wish  to  converse  with  you. 

El.  Ah,  father! 

Har.  Why  this  cry?  Is  it  the  word,  or  the 
thing  itself  that  frightens  you,  daughter? 


THE  MISER 


1 7 


Cle.  The  way  you  may  look  at  marriage  may 
frighten  us  both ; and  we  fear  that  our  senti- 
ments may  not  happen  to  chime  in  with  your 
choice. 

Har.  A little  patience;  do  not  alarm  your- 
selves. I know  what  is  good  for  you  both,  and 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  shall  have  cause 
to  complain  of  what  I intend  to  do.  To  begin  at 
one  end  of  the  story  [To  Cleante],  tell  me,  have 
you  noticed  a young  person,  called  Mariane,  who 
lodges  not  far  from  here  ? 

Cle.  Yes,  father.  [Yfarfc  dpwn  R.] 

Har.  And  you? 

El.  I have  heard  her  spoken  of. 

Har.  How  do  you  like  that  girl,  son? 

Cle.  A very  charming  person.  [Up  back  of 
Elise’s  chair.] 

Har.  What  do  you  think  of  her  countenance  ? 

Cle.  Very  genteel,  and  full  of  intelligence. 

Har.  Her  air  and  manner. 

Cle.  Without  doubt,  admirable.  [Working 
to  R.  C.] 

Har.  Do  you  not  think  that  a girl  like  that 
deserves  to  be  taken  notice  of? 

Cle.  Yes,  father. 

Har.  That  it  would  be  a desirable  match? 

Cle.  Very  desirable. 

Har.  That  she  looks  as  if  she  would  make  a 
good  wife? 

Cle.  Undoubtedly. 

Har.  And  that  a husband  would  have  reason 
to  be  satisfied  with  her? 

Cle/  Assuredly. 

Har.  There  is  a slight  difficulty.  I fear  that 


i8 


THE  MISER 


she  has  not  as  much  money  as  one  might  reason- 
ably pretend  to. 

Cle.  Ah ! father,  money  is  not  worth  con- 
sidering when  there  is  a question  of  marrying  a 
respectable  girl.  [Drops  dozm  R.  by  table.] 

Har.  Not  so,  not  so.  But  this  much  may  be 
said,  that  if  one  finds  not  quite  so  much  money 
as  one  might  wish,  there  is  a way  of  regaining 
it  in  other  things. 

Cle.  Of  course.  [Turns  to  Har.] 

Har.  Well,  I am  very  glad  to  see  that  you 
share  my  sentiments;  for  her  genteel  behavior 
and  her  gentleness  have  quite  gained  my  heart, 
and  I have  made  up  my  mind  to  marry  her,  pro- 
vided she  has  some  dowrv.  [Down  L.] 

Cle.  Eh!  [Up  C.] 

Har.  What  now? 

Cle.  You  have  made  up  your  mind,  you 
say  . . . 

Har.  To  marry  Mariane. 

Cle.  Who?  You,  you?  [Towards  him.] 

Har.  Yes,  I,  I,  I.  What  means  this? 

Cle.  I feel  a sudden  dizziness,  and  I had  bet- 
ter go.  [Exit  up  iC] 

Har.  It  will  be  nothing.  Go  quickly  into  the 
kitchen,  and  drink  a large  glassful  of  cold  water. 
[To  table  L.] 

Har.  A lot  of  flimsy  sparks,  with  no  more 
strength  than  chickens.  Daughter,  this  is  what 
I have  resolved  upon  for  myself.  [ Sits  at  table 
L.]  As  for  your  brother,  I intend  him  for  a cer- 
tain widow,  of  whom  they  spoke  to  me  this 
morning;  and  you,  I will  give  you  to  Seigneur 
Anselme. 

El.  To  Seigneur  Anselme? 


THE  MISER 


19 


Har.  Yes,  a staid,  prudent,  and  careful  man, 
who  is  not  above  fifty,  and  whose  wealth  is 
spoken  of  everywhere. 

El.  [Making  a curtsey]  I have  no  wish  to 
get  married,  father,  if  you  please. 

Har.  [ Imitating  her]  And  I,  my  dear  girl, 
my  pet,  I wish  you  to  get  married,  if  you  please. 

El.  [Curtseying  once  more]  I beg  your  par- 
don, father. 

Har.  [Imitating  Elise]  I beg  your  pardon, 
daughter. 

El.  I am  Seigneur  Anselme’s  most  humble 
servant  [Curtseying  again]  ; but,  with  your 
leave,  I shall  not  marry  him. 

Har.  I am  your  most  humble  slave,  but  [Im- 
itating Elise],  with  your  leave,  you  shall  marry 
him  not  later  than  this  evening. 

El.  Not  later  than  this  evening? 

Har.  Not  later  than  this  evening. 

El.  [Courtscying  again]  This  shall  not  be, 
father.  [Going  up.] 

Har.  [Imitating  her  again]  This  shall  be, 
daughter. 

El.'  No. 

Har.  Yes. 

El.  No,  I tell  you. 

Har.  Yes,  I tell  you. 

El.  That  is  a thing  you  shall  not  drive  me  to. 

Har.  That  is  a thing  I shall  drive  you  to. 

El.  I will  sooner  kill  myself  than  marry  such 
a husband.  [Down  R.  below  table.] 

Har.  You  shall  not  kill  yourself,  and  you 
shall  marry  him.  But  has  such  boldness  ever 
been  seen!  [Crosses  to  her.]  Has  ever  a daugh- 


20 


THE  MISER 


ter  been  heard  to  speak  to  her  father  in  this 
manner  ? 

El.  But  has  any  one  ever  seen  a father  give 
away  his  daughter  in  marriage  in  this  manner  ? 

Har.  It  is  a match  to  which  no  one  can  ob- 
ject; and  I bet  that  every  one  will  approve  of  my 
choice. 

El.  And  I bet  that  no  reasonable  being  will 
approve  of  it.  [Around  R.  of  table.] 

Har.  [Perceiving  Valere  in  the  distance] 
Here  comes  Valere.  Shall  we  make  him  judge 
betwixt  us  in  this  matter  ? 

El.  I consent  to  it. 

Har.  Will  you  submit  to  his  judgment? 

El.  Yes;  I will  submit  to  what  he  shall  de- 
cide. 

Har.  That  is  agreed. 

[Enter  Valere.] 

— 1Har.  [Up  C.]  Come  here,  Valere.  We  have 

elected  you  to  tell  us  who  is  in  the  right,  my 
daughter  or  I. 

Val.  You,  Sir,  beyond  gainsay. 

Har.  Are  you  aware  of  what  we  are  talk- 
ing? 

Val.  No.  But  you  could  not  be  in  the  wrong. 
You  are  made  up  of  right. 

Har.  I intend,  this  evening,  to  give  her  for  a 
husband,  a man  who  is  as  rich  as  he  is  discreet ; 
and  the  jade  tells  me  to  my  face  that  she  will  not 
take  him.  What  say  you  to  this? 

Val.  What  do  I say  to  it? 

Har.  Yes. 

Val.  Eh!  eh! 

Har.  What? 


THE  MISER 


21 


Val.  I say  that,  in  the  main,  I am  of  your 
opinion ; and  you  cannot  but  be  right.  But  on  the 
other  side,  she  is  not  altogether  wrong,  and  . 

Har.  How  is  that?  Seigneur  Anselme  is  a 
desirable  match ; he  is  a gentleman  who  is  noble, 
kind,  steady,  discreet,  and  very*  well  to  do,  and 
who  has  neither  chick  nor  child  left  him  from 
his  first  marriage.  Could  she  meet  with  a better 
match  ? 

Val.  That  is  true.  But  she  might  say  to  you 
that  it  is  hurrying  things  a little  too  much,  and 
that  you  should  give  her  some  time  at  least  to 
see  whether  her  inclinations  would  agree 

with  . . . 

Har.  This  is  an  opportunity  which  should  be 
taken  by  the  forelock.  I find  in  this  marriage 
an  advantage  which  I could  not  find  elsewhere ; 
and  he  agrees  to  take  her  without  a dowry. 

Val.  Without  a down’  ? 

Har.  Yes. 

Val.  In  that  case,  I say  no  more.  Do  you 
see,  this  is  altogether  a convincing  reason;  one 
must  yield  to  that. 

Har.  It  is  a considerable  saving  to  me. 
[Drops  to  table  L.;  sits] 

Val.  Assuredly ; it  cannot  be  gainsaid.  It  is 
true  that  your  daughter  might  represent  to  you 
that  marriage  is  a more  important  matter  than 
you  think;  that  it  involves  a question  of  being 
happy  or  miserable  all  one’s  life ; and  that  an  en- 
gagement which  must  last  till  death  ought  never 
to  be  entered  upon  except  with  great  precautions. 

Har.  Without  a dowry ! 

Val.  You  are  right.  That  decides  it  all,  of 
course.  There  are  people  who  might  tell  you 


22 


THE  MISER 


that  on  such  an  occasion  the  wishes  of  a daugh- 
ter are  something,  no  doubt,  that  ought  to  be 
taken  into  consideration;  and  that  this  great  dis- 
parity of  age,  of  temper,  and  of  feelings,  makes 
a marriage  subject  to  very  sad  accidents. 

Har.  Without  a dowry ! 

Val.  Ah ! there  is  no  reply  to  that ; I know 
that  well  enough.  Who  the  deuce  could  say  any- 
thing against  that  ? Not  that  there  are  not  many 
fathers  who  would  prefer  to  humour  the  wishes 
of  their  daughters  to  the  money  they  could  give 
them ; who  would  not  sacrifice  them  to  their  own 
interests,  and  who  would,  above  all  things,  try  to 
infuse  into  marriage  that  sweet  conformity, 
which,  at  all  times,  maintains  honour,  peace,  and 
joy;  and  which  . . . 

Har.  Without  a dowry  ! [Rises.  Drops  L.] 

Val.  It  is  true ; that  closes  one's  mouth  at 
once.  Without  a dowry!  There  are  no  means 
of  resisting  an  argument  like  that.  [ Crosses  R. 
C.  Sits  at  table.] 

Har.  [Aside,  looking  tozvards  the  garden] 
Bless  my  soul ! I think  I hear  a dog  barking. 
Most  likely  it  is  some  one  with  a design  upon 
my  money.  [To  Valero]  Do  not  stir.  [Val.  rises. ] 
I am  coming  back  directly.  [Exit  to  garden.] 

El.  Are  you  jesting,  Valere,  to  speak  to  him 
in  that  manner? 

Val.  It  is  in  order  not  to  sour  his  temper, 
and  to  gain  my  end  the  better.  [Dozvn  to  table 
R.]  To  run  counter  to  his  opinions  is  the  way 
to  spoil  everything;  and  there  are  certain  minds 
which  cannot  be  dealt  with  in  a straightforward 
manner;  temperaments  averse  to  all  resistance; 
restive  characters,  whom  the  truth  causes  to  rear, 


THE  MISER 


23 


who  always  set  their  faces  against  the  straight 
road  of  reason,  and  whom  you  cannot  lead  except 
by  turning  them  with  their  back  towards  the 
goal.  Pretend  to  consent  to  what  he  wishes,  you 
will  gain  your  end  all  the  better ; and  . . . 

[Up  to  garden  entrance;  looks  out.] 

El.  But  this  marriage,  Valere!  [Comes  up 
to  him  C.] 

Val.  We  will  find  some  pretext  to  break  it 
off.  [Turns  back.  Seats  Elise  L.  of  table  R.] 

El.  But  what  to  invent,  if  it  is  to  be  consum- 
mated this  evening? 

Val.  You  must  ask  for  a delay  and  pretend 

to  be  ill. 

El.  But  the  feint  will  be  discovered,  if  they 
call  in  the  doctors. 

Val.  Are  you  jesting?  What  do  they  know 
about  it?  Come,  come,  with  them  you  may  have 
whatever  illness  you  please ; they  will  find  you 
some  reasons  to  tell  you  whence  it  proceeds. 

[Enter  Harp  agon.] 

Har.  [Aside,  at  the  further  end  of  the  stage.] 
It  is  nothing,  thank  Heaven.  [Drops  down  L.] 

Val.  [Not  seeing  Harpagon]  In  short,  our 
last  resource  is  flight,  which  will  shelter  us  from 
everything  [Above  table]  ; and  if  your  love,  fair 
Elise,  be  capable  of  acting  with  firmness  . . . 

[Perceiving  Harpagon]  Yes,  a daughter  ought  to 
obey  her  father.  She  ought  not  to  look  at  the 
shape  of  a husband  [R.  of  table]  ; and  when  the 
great  argument  of  without  a dowry  is  added  to 
it,  she  must  be  ready  to  accept  what  is  given  to 
her. 

Har.  Good:  that  is  well  spoken. 


24 


THE  MISER 


Val.  I crave  your  pardon,  Monsieur,  if  I 
am  a little  warm,  and  take  the  liberty  of  speaking 
as  I do. 

Har.  How  now ! I am  delighted  with  it,  and 
I wish  you  to  take  an  absolute  control  over  her. 
[To  Elisey  who  rises  up  C.]  Yes,  you  may 
run  away  as  much  as  you  like,  I invest  him  with 
the  authority  which  Heaven  has  given  me  over 
you,  and  I will  have  you  do  all  that  he  tells  you. 

Val.  [To  Elise]  After  that,  resist  my  re- 
monstrances. [Up  to  Elise.] 

[Elise  Exit. ] 

Val.  With  your  leave,  Monsieur,  I will  fol- 
low her,  to  continue  the  advice  which  I was  giv- 
ing her. 

Har.  Yes,  you  will  oblige  me.  By  all 
means.  . . . 

Val.  It  is  as  well  to  keep  her  tight  in  hand. 

Har.  True.  We  must.  . . . 

Val.  Do  not  be  uneasy.  I think  that  I shall 
succeed.  [Crosses  L.] 

Har.  Do,  do.  I am  going  to  take  a little 
stroll  in  town,  and  I shall  be  back  presently.  [ U p 
R.  C.] 

Val.  [Addressing  himself  to  Elise , leaving 
by  the  door , through  which  she  went  out]  Yes, 
money  is  more  precious  than  anything  else  in 
this  world,  and  you  ought  to  thank  Heaven  for 
having  given  you  such  an  honest  man  for  a 
father.  He  knows  how  to  go  through  life.  When 
any  one  offers  to  take  a girl  without  a dowry,  one 
should  look  no  farther.  It  sums  up  everything; 
and  zvithout  dowry  makes  up  for  beauty,  youth, 
birth,  honour,  wisdom,  and  probity. 


THE  MISER 


25 


Har.  Ah  ! the  honest  fellow ! He  speaks  like 
an  oracle.  It  is  a rare  piece  of  luck  to  have  such 
a servant! 

CURTAIN. 

ACT  II. 

[Cleante  and  La  Flcche.] 

Cle.  Ah ! wretch  that  you  are ! where  have 
you  been  ? Did  I not  give  you  the  order  . . . 

La  Fl.  [Backs  down  L.  C.,  bowing]  Yes, 
Monsieur ; and  I came  here  to  wait  for  you  with- 
out stirring;  but  your  father,  the  most  surly  of 
men,  ordered  me  out  in  spite  of  myself,  at  the 
risk  of  a thrashing. 

Cle.  How  is  our  affair  getting  on  ? Matters 
press  more  than  ever,  and,  since  I have  seen  you, 
I have  found  out  that  my  father  is  my  rival. 
[Drops  to  table  down  R.] 

La  Fl.  Your  father  in  love?  [Remains  in  C.] 

Cle.  Yes ; and  I have  had  the  utmost  diffi- 
culty in  concealing  from  him  the  trouble  which 
these  tidings  have  caused  me. 

La  Fl.  He  meddle  in  love!  What  the  devil 
put  that  in  his  head  ? Is  he  making  fun  of  every 
one?  and  has  love  been  made  for  people  like 
him? 

Cle.  [Sits  L.  of  table]  This  passion  must 
have  got  into  his  head  to  punish  me  for  my 
sins. 

La  Fl.  But  for  what  reason  do  you  keep 
your  love  a secret  from  him  ? 

Cle.  In  order  to  give  him  less  suspicion,  and 


26 


THE  MISER 


to  keep,  if  needs  be,  the  means  open  for  dissuad- 
ing him  from  this  marriage.  What  answer  have 
they  made  to  you? 

La  Fl.  Upon  my  word,  Monsieur,  borrowers 
are  very  unlucky  people;  and  one  must  put  up 
with  strange  things,  when  one  is  compelled,  like 
you,  to  pass  through  the  hands  of  money-lenders. 

Cle.  Will  the  affair  fall  through? 

La  Fl.  I beg  your  pardon.  Our  Master 
Simon,  the  agent  who  has  been  recommended  to 
us,  an  active  and  zealous  man,  says  that  he  has 
done  wonders  for  you,  and  he  assures  me  that 
your  face  alone  has  won  his  heart. 

Cle.  Shall  I have  the  fifteen  thousand  francs 
which  I want? 

La  Fl.  Yes,  but  with  some  trifling  conditions 
which  you  must  accept,  if  you  purpose  that  the 
affair  should  be  carried  through. 

Cle.  Has  he  allowed  you  to  speak  to  the  per- 
son who  is  to  lend  the  money? 

La  Fl.  Ah ! really,  things  are  not  managed 
in  that  way.  He  takes  even  more  care  to  remain 
unknown  than  you  do  and  these  things  are  much 
greater  mysteries  than  you  think.  Simon  would 
not  tell  me  his  name  at  all,  and  he  will  be  con- 
fronted with  you  to-day  in  a house  borrowed  for 
the  occasion,  to  be  informed  by  you,  personally, 
of  your  own  substance  and  that  of  your  family; 
and  I have  no  doubt  that  the  very  name  of  your 
father  may  make  things  go  smoothly. 

Cle.  [Leans  on  table]  And  above  all  our 
mother  being  dead,  whose  property  cannot  be 
alienated. 

La  Fl.  Here  are  some  clauses,  which  he  has 
himself  dictated  to  our  go-between,  to  be  shown 


THE  MISER 


27 


to  you  before  doing-  anything: — “Provided  that 
the  lender  see  all  his  securities,  and  that  the  bor- 
rower be  of  age,  and  of  a family  whose  estate  is 
ample,  solid,  secure,  and  undoubted,  and  free 
from  all  encumbrance,  a binding  and  correct 
bond  shall  be  executed  before  a notary,  the  most 
honest  man  to  be  found,  and  who,  for  this  pur- 
pose,  shall  be  chosen  by  the  borrower,  to  whom 
it  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that  the  instru- 
ment shall  be  regularly  drawn  up.” 

Cle.  There  is  nothing  to  object  in  that. 

La  Fl.  "The  lender,  in  order  not  to  charge 
his  conscience  with  the  least  scruple,  will  only 
lend  his  money  at  a little  more  than  five  and  a 
half  per  cent.” 

Cle.  At  a little  more  than  five  and  a half  per 
cent.  Zounds!  that  is  honest  enough.  There  is 
no  reason  to  complain. 

La  Fl.  That  is  true.  “But  as  the  lender  has 
not  the  sum  in  question  by  him,  and  as,  to  oblige 
the  borrower,  he  is  himself  obliged  to  borrow  it 
of  some  one  at  the  rate  of  twenty  per  cent,  it 
shall  be  agreed  that  the  said  first  borrower  shall 
pay  this  interest,  without  prejudice  of  the  rest, 
seeing  that  it  is  only  to  oblige  him  that  the  said 
lender  takes  up  that  loan.” 

Cle.  What  the  devil ! what  Jew%  what  Arab 
is  this?  This  is  more  than  twenty-five  per  cent. 

La  Fl.  It  is  true,  that  is  what  I have  said.  It 
is  for  you  to  see  that. 

Cle.  What  can  I see?  I want  the  money, 
and  I am  bound  to  consent  to  everything. 

La  Fl.  That  is  the  answer  which  I made. 

Cle.  There  is  something  else  still? 

La  Fl.  Nothing  but  a small  matter.  “Of  the 


28 


THE  MISER 


fifteen  thousand  francs  required,  the  lender  can 
count  down  in  cash  only  twelve  thousand;  and, 
for  the  remaining*  thousand  crowns,  the  borrower 
will  have  to  take  them  out  in  chattels,  clothing, 
and  jewelry,  of  which  the  following  is  the  memo- 
randum, and  which  the  lender  has  set  down  hon- 
estly at  the  lowest  possible  price.” 

Cle.  What  does  this  mean? 

La  Fl.  Listen  to  the  memorandum.  “First, 
a four-post  bed,  elegantly  adorned  with  Flun- 
gary-lace  bands,  with  hangings  of  olive  coloured 
cloth,  with  six  chairs,  and  a counterpane  of  the 
same ; the  whole  in  very  good  condition,  and 
lined  with  a shot  tafifetas,  red  and  blue.  Item : a 
tester  for  this  bed,  of  good  Aumale,  pale  rose- 
coloured  serge,  with  large  and  small  silk 
fringes.” 

Cle.  What  does  he  want  me  to  do  with  it  ? 
La  Fl.  Wait.  “Item:  tapestry  hangings, 
representing  the  loves  of  Gombaud  and  Macee. 
Item:  a large  walnut  wood  table,  with  twelve 
columns  or  turned  legs,  which  draws  out  at  both 
sides,  provided  with  six  stools  underneath  it.” 
Cle.  What  have  I to  do,  Zounds  . . . 

La  Fl.  Only  have  patience.  “Item:  three 
large  muskets  inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl,  with 
the  necessary  rests.  Item:  a brick  furnace,  with 
two  retorts,  and  three  receivers  very  useful  for 
those  who  have  a turn  for  distilling.” 

Cle.  I am  going  mad. 

La  Fl.  Gently.  “Item : a Bologna  lute  with 
all  its  strings,  or  nearly  all.  Item : a trou- 
madame  table,  a draught-board,  with  the  game 
of  mother  goose,  restored  from  the  Greeks,  very 
agreeable  to  pass  the  time  when  one  has  nothing 


THE  MISER 


29 


else  to  do.  Item:  a lizzard’s  skin  of  three  feet 
and  a half,  stuffed  with  hay : a very  pretty  curios- 
ity to  hang  at  the  ceiling  of  a room.  The  whole 
of  the  above-mentioned,  really  worth  more  than 
four  thousand  five  hundred  francs,  and  brought 
down  to  the  value  of  a thousand  crowns,  through 
the  discretion  of  the  lender.” 

Cle.  [Threatening  La  F.,  crosses  L .]  May 
the  plague  choke  him  with  his  discretion,  the 
wretch,  the  cut-throat  that  he  is ! Has  one  ever 
heard  of  similar  usury?  [La  F.  drops  down  I?.] 

Is  he  not  satisfied  with  the  tremendous  interest 
which  he  demands,  but  must  needs  force  me  to 
take  for  the  three  thousand  france  the  old  lum- 
ber which  he  picks  up?  [ Returning ] I shall  not 
get  two  hundred  crowns  for  the  whole  of  it ; and 
nevertheless  I must  make  up  my  mind  to  consent 
to  what  he  wishes ; for  he  has  it  in  his  power  to 
make  me  accept  anything;  and  the  scoundrel 
holds  me  with  a knife  to  my  throat. 

La  Fl.  Without  offence,  Monsieur,  I see  you 
exactly  in  the  high  road  which  Panyige  took  to 
ruin  himself : taking  money  in  advance,  buying 
dear,  selling  cheap,  and  eating  his  corn  whilst  it 
was  but  grass. 

Cle.  [Turning  L.  around  table].  What  am'"' 
I to  do  ? See  to  what  young  people  are  reduced 
by  the  cursed  stinginess  of  their  fathers,  and 
then  people  are  surprised  when  sons  wish  their 
fathers  dead! 

La  Fl.  [Slowly  crossing  up  L.  to  Cle.]  One 
must  confess  that  yours,  with  his  stinginess, 
would  incense  the  steadiest  man  in  the  world.  I 
have,  Heaven  be  praised,  no  very  great  inclina- 
tion to  be  hanged ; and,  among  my  colleagues 


30 


THE  MISER 


whom  I see  dabbling  in  many  trifling  things,  I 
know  well  enough  how  to  get  cleverly  out  of 
the  scrape,  and  to  keep  as  clear  as  possible  of 
these  little  amenities  which  savour  more  or  less 
of  the  rope ; but,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  he  would, 
by  his  way  of  acting,  give  me  the  temptation  to 
rob  him ; and  I verily  believe  that,  by  doing  so, 
I would  commit  a meritorious  action. 

Cle.  Give  me  this  memorandum,  that  I may 
have  another  look  at  it.  [Up  C.  towards  garden 
door.] 

[Enter  Harpagon,  Master  Simon;  Cleante 
and  La  Fleche  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
stage.] 

Sim.  Yes,  Monsieur,  it  is  a young  man  who 
is  in  want  of  money;  his  affairs  compel  him  to 
find  some,  and  he  will  consent  to  all  that  you  dic- 
tate to  him. 

Har.  But  think  you,  Master  Simon,  that  there 
is  no  risk  to  run  ? and  do  you  know  the  name,  the 
property  and  the  family  of  him  for  whom  you 
speak  ? 

Sim.  No.  In  reality  I cannot  well  inform 
you  about  that,  and  it  is  only  by  chance  that  I 
have  been  recommended  to  him ; but  he  will  him- 
self explain  all  these  things  to  you,  and  his  ser- 
vant has  assured  me  that  you  will  be  satisfied 
when  you  shall  know  him.  All  that  I am  able  to 
tell  you  is  that  his  family  is  very  rich,  that  he  has 
already  lost  his  mother,  and  that  he  will  engage 
himself,  if  you  wish  it,  that  his  father  shall  die 
before  eight  months  are  over. 

Har.  That  is  something.  Charity,  Master 


THE  MISER 


3i 

Simon,  enjoins  us  to  be  agreeable  to  people  when 
we  can. 

Sim.  That  needs  no  comment. 

La  Fl.  [Softly,  to  Cleante , recognizing  Mas- 
ter Simon.]  What  does  this  mean?  Master  Simon 
who  is  speaking  to  your  father? 

Cle.  [Softly,  to  La  Flee  he]  Can  any  one  have 
told  him  who  I am  and  are  you  perhaps  betray- 
ing me? 

Sim.  [To  Cleante  and  La  Fleche]  Ah,  ah! 
you  are  in  a great  hurry ! Who  told  you  that  it 
was  here?  [To  Llarpagon]  It  is  not  I,  at  least, 
Monsieur,  who  have  given  them  your  name  and 
your  address;  but,  in  my  opinion,  there  is  no 
great  harm  in  this ; they  are  discreet  persons,  and 
you  can  here  come  to  an  understanding  with  one 
another. 

Har.  How  ? 

Sim.  [Pointing  to  Cleante]  This  gentleman 
is  the  party  who  wishes  to  borrow  the  fifteen 
thousand  francs  of  which  I spoke. 

Har.  What,  hangdog,  it  is  you  who  abandon 
yourself  to  these  culpable  extravagances. 

Cle.  [Approaching  C.]  What!  it  is  you, 
father,  who  lend  yourself  to  these  shameful 
deeds ! [Master  Simon  runs  away,  and  La 
Fleche  hides  himself  behind  table  L.] 

Har.  It  is  you  who  wish  to  ruin  yourself  by 
such  censurable  loans?  [Approaching  C.] 

Cle.  It  is  you  who  seek  to  enrich  yourself 
by  such  criminal  usury? 

Har.  Can  you  dare,  after  this,  to  appear  be- 
fore me? 

Cle.  Can  you  dare,  after  this,  to  show  your 
face  to  the  world?  [Drops  down  R.] 


32 


THE  MISER 


Har.  Are  you  not  ashamed,  tell  me,  to  prac- 
tice this  sort  of  excesses,  to  rush  into  these 
dreadful  expenses,  and  to  dissipate  so  shamefully 
the  property  which  your  parents  have  amassed 
for  you  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow. 

Cle.  Do  you  not  blush  to  dishonour  your  sta- 
tion by  the  trade  you  are  engaged  in,  to  sacrifice 
glory  and  reputation  to  the  insatiable  desire  of 
piling  crown  upon  crown,  and  to  surpass,  in  mat- 
ters of  interest,  the  most  infamous  tricks  that 
were  ever  invented  by  the  most  notorious 
usurers  ? 

Har.  Begone  out  of  my  sight,  scoundrel ! 
begone  out  of  my  sight! 

Cle.  Who,  think  you,  is  the  more  criminal — 
he  who  buys  the  money  of  which  he  is  in  need, 
or  he  who  steals  money  for  which  he  has  no 
use?  [Exit  up  L.,  second  E.] 

Har.  Begone,  I say,  and  do  not  break  the 
drums  of  my  ears.  [Alone]  After  all,  I am  not 
so  vexed  about  this  adventure.  It  will  be  a les- 
son to  me  to  keep  more  than  ever  an  eye  upon 
his  proceedings. 

[Enter  Frosine.] 

Fro.  Monsieur — 

Har.  Wait  a moment ; I shall  be  back  directly 
to  speak  to  you.  [Aside]  I had  better  go  and 
take  a look  at  my  money.  [Exit  into  garden.] 

[Enter  La  Fleche.] 

La  Fl.  [Without  seeing  Frosine  from  behind 
table  L.]  The  adventure  is  altogether  funny! 
He  must  have  somewhere  a large  store  of  furni- 


THE  MISER  33 

ture,  for  we  could  recognize  nothing  here  from 
what  is  in  the  memorandum. 

Fro.  Eh ! is  it  you,  my  poor  La  Fleche ! How 
conies  this  meeting? 

La  Fl.  Ah!  ah!  it  is  you,  Frosine!  What 
brings  you  here?  [Crosses  to  C.] 

Fro.  The  same  that  brings  me  everywhere 
else,  to  fetch  and  carry,  to  render  myself  serv- 
iceable to  people,  and  to  profit  as  much  as  pos- 
sible by  the  small  talents  of  which  I am  pos- 
sessed. You  know  that  in  this  world  we  must 
live  by  our  wits,  and  that  to  persons  like  me, 
Heaven  has  given  no  other  income  than  intrigue 
and  industry. 

La  Fl.  Have  you  any  dealings  with  the  mas- 
ter of  this  house? 

Fro.  Yes.  I am  arranging  some  small  mat- 
ter for  him,  for  which  I expect  a reward.  [Turns 

R-] 

La  Fl.  From  him?  Ah!  you  will  have  to 
be  wideawake  enough  if  you  get  anything  out 
of  him,  and  I warn  you  that  money  is  very  scarce 
in  this  house. 

Fro.  There  are  certain  services  that  touch 
to  the  quick  marvelously.  [Drops  down  R. 
around  table.] 

La  Fl.  [ Bowing ] I am  your  humble  servant. 
You  do  not  know  Siegneur  Harpagon  yet. 
Siegneur  Harpagon  is  of  all  human  beings  the 
least  human,  of  all  mortals  the  hardest  and  most 
close-fisted.  There  is  no  service  that  touches  his 
gratitude  deeply  enough  to  make  him  unloose 
his  purse-strings.  Praise,  esteem,  kindness  in 
words,  and  friendship,  as  much  as  you  like,  but 
money,  nothing  of  the  kind.  There  is  nothing 


34 


THE  MISER 


drier  and  more  arid  than  his  good  graces  and 
his  caresses,  and  to  give  is  a word  for  which  he 
has  such  an  aversion,  that  he  never  says : I give 
you , but  I lend  you  good  day. 

Fro.  Gad$  I have  the  art  of  drawing  some- 
thing out  of  people.  I have  the  secret  of  enter- 
ing into  their  affections,  of  tickling  their  hearts, 
and  of  finding  out  their  most  sensitive  spots. 
[To  chair  above  table.] 

La  Fl.  Of  no  avail  here.  I defy  you  to  soften 
the  man  we  are  speaking  of,  so  that  he  will  give 
money.  Upon  this  subject  he  is  a Turk,  but  of 
a turkishness  to  cause  the  despair  of  every  one, 
and  one  might  starve,  and  he  would  not  budge. 
In  one  word,  he  loves  money  better  than  reputa- 
tion, than  honour,  and  than  virtue.  But  he  is 
coming  back ; I am  going. 

\ [Enter  Harpagon.] 

Har.  [Aside]  Everything  is  going  on  right. 
[Aloud]  Well!  what  is  it,  Frosine? 

Fro.  Gad,  how  well  you  are  looking  ; you  are 
the  very  picture  of  health ! 

Har.  Who?  I! 

Fro.  I never  saw  you  with  such  a fresh  and 
jolly  complexion. 

Har.  Really  ? 

Fro.  How?  You  never  in  your  life  looked 
so  young  as  you  do  now;  I see  people  of  five- 
and-twenty  who  look  older  than  you. 

Har.  I am  over  sixty,  nevertheless,  Frosine. 

Fro.  Well ! what  does  that  signify,  sixty 
years?  that  is  nothing  to  speak  of!  It  is  the 
very  flower  of  one’s  age,  that  is;  and  you  are 
just  entering  the  prime  of  manhood. 


THE  MISER  35 

Har.  That  is  true,  but  twenty  years  less 
would  do  me  no  harm,  I think. 

Fro.  Are  you  jesting?  You  have  no  need' 
of  that,  and  you  are  made  of  the  stuff  to  live  a 
hundred. 

Har.  Do  you  think  so  ? 

Fro.  Indeed  I do.  You  show  all  the  signs 
of  it.  Hold  up  your  head  a moment.  Yes,  it  is 
there,  well  enough  between  your  eyes,  a sign  of 
long  life! 

Har.  You  are  a judge  of  that  sort  of  thing? 

Fro.  Undoubtedly  I am.  Show  me  your 
hand.  Begad,  what  a line  of  life! 

Har.  How  ? 

Fro.  Do  not  you  see  how  far  this  line  goes? 

Har.  Well!  what  does  it  mean? 

Fro.  Upon  my  word,  I said  a hundred,  but 
you  shall  pass  six  score. 

Har.  Is  it  possible? 

Fro.  They  will  have  to  kill  you,  I tell  you, 
and  you  shall  bury  your  children,  and  your  chil- 
dren’s children. 

Har.  So  much  the  better!  How  is  our  af- 
fair getting  on? 

Fro.  Need  you  ask?  Does  one  ever  see  me 
meddle  with  anything  that  I do  not  bring  to  an 
issue?  But  for  match-making,  especially,  I have 
a marvellous  talent.  There  are  not  two  people 
in  the  world  whom  I cannot  manage,  in  a very 
short  time,  to  couple  together ; and  I believe 
that,  if  I took  it  into  my  head,  I should  marry 
the  grand  Turk  to  the  republic  of  Venice.  To 
be  sure,  there  were  no  very  great  difficulties  in 
this  matter.  As  I am  intimate  with  the  ladies, 
I have  often  spoken  to  each  of  them  of  you ; and 


36 


THE  MISER 


I have  told  the  mother  of  the  design  which  you 
had  upon  Mariane,  from  seeing  her  pass  in  the 
street,  and  taking  the  fresh  air  at  her  window. 

Har.  Who  answered  . . . 

Fro.  She  has  received  your  proposal  with 
joy,  and  when  I gave  her  to  understand  that 
you  very  much  wished  her  daughter  to  be  pres- 
ent this  evening  at  the  marriage-contract,  which 
was  to  be  signed  for  yours,  she  has  consented 
without  difficulty,  and  has  entrusted  her  to  me 
for  the  purpose. 

Har.  [Sits  R.  at  L.  table ] It  is  because  I 
am  obliged  to  offer  a supper  to  Siegneur  Ansel- 
me,  and  I shall  be  glad  that  she  share  the  treat. 

Fro.  [Sits  L.  at  table ] You  are  right.  She 
is  to  pay  a visit  after  dinner  to  your  daughter, 
whence  she  intends  to  take  a turn  in  the  fair, 
to  come  and  sup  here  afterwards. 

Har.  Well ! they  shall  go  together  in  my 
coach,  which  I will  lend  them. 

Fro.  That  will  do  very  nicely. 

Har.  [Rising  to  C.]  But,  Frosine,  have  you 
spoken  to  the  mother  respecting  the  portion  she 
can  give  her  daughter?  Have  you  told  her  that 
she  must  bestir  herself  a little;  that  she  should 
make  some  effort ; that  she  must  even  bleed  her- 
self a little  on  an  occasion  like  that?  For,  after 
all,  one  does  not  marry  a girl  without  her  bring- 
ing something. 

Fro.  [Rises  to  C.]  How  something!  She  is 
a girl  who  brings  you  twelve  thousand  francs  a- 
vear. 

Har.  Twelve  thousand  francs! 

Fro.  Yes.  To  begin  with,  she  has  been 
brought  up  and  accustomed  to  strict  economy  in 


THE  MISER 


37 


feeding.  She  is  a girl  used  to  live  on  salad, 
milk,  cheese,  and  apples;  and  who,  in  conse- 
quence, will  neither  want  a well-appointed  table, 
nor  exquisite  broths,  nor  peeled  barley,  at  every 
turn,  nor  other  delicacies  which  would  be  neces- 
sary to  any  other  woman;  and  let  these  things 
cost  ever  so  little,  they  always  mount  to  about 
three  thousand  francs  a-year  at  the  least.  Be- 
sides this,  she  has  no  taste  for  anything  but  the 
utmost  simplicity,  and  does  not  care  for  sumptu- 
ous dresses,  or  valuable  jewels,  or  magnificent 
furniture,  to  which  other  young  ladies  are  so 
much  given;  and  that  comes  to  more  than  four 
thousand  francs  per  annum.  In  addition,  she 
has  a terrible  aversion  to  gambling,  not  a com- 
mon thing  in  women  of  the  present  day;  for  I 
know  one  in  our  neighborhood  who  has  lost  more 
than  twenty  thousand  francs  this  year  at  trente 
et  quarante.  But  let  us  only  estimate  it  at  a 
fourth  of  that.  Five  thousand  francs  a-year  at 
play,  and  four  thousand  in  jewelry  and  dresses, 
that  makes  nine  thousand ; and  a thousand 
crowns,  say,  for  the  food:  are  there  not  your 
twelve  thousand  francs  a-year? 

Har.  Yes : that  is  not  so  bad,  but  this  reck- 
oning contains,  after  all,  nothing  real. 

Fro.  Pardon  me.  Is  it  not  something  real 
to  bring  you  for  a marriage  portion  great 
sobriety,  the  inheritance  of  a great  love  for  sim- 
plicity of  dress,  and  the  acquisition  of  a great 
hatred  for  gambling? 

Har.  [Down  I?.]  Surely  it  is  a joke  to  wish 
to  make  up  her  dowry  to  me  out  of  expenses  to 
which  she  will  not  go.  I am  not  going  to  give 
a receipt  for  what  I do  not  receive,  and  I shall 


38 


THE  MISER 


have  to  get  something  down  on  the  nail.  [Re- 
turns C.] 

Fro.  Good  gracious ! you  shall  get  enough, 
and  they  have  spoken  to  me  of  a certain  country 
where  they  have  some  property,  whereof  you 
will  become  the  master. 

Har.  That  remains  to  be  seen.  But,  Frosine, 
there  is  something  else  still  which'  makes  me  un- 
easy. The  girl  is  young,  as  you  can  see,  and 
young  people  ordinarily  love  only  their  equals, 
and  seek  only  their  society.  I am  afraid  that  a 
man  of  my  age  may  not  be  to  her  taste,  and  that 
this  might  produce  certain  little  troubles  in  my 
house,  which  would  not  at  all  suit  me. 

Fro.  Ah ! how  little  you  know  her ! This  is 
another  peculiarity  which  I had  to  mention  to 
you.  She  has  a frightful  aversion  to  young 
people,  and  cares  for  none  except  for  old  men. 

Har.  She? 

Fro.  Yes,  she.  I should  like  that  you  had 
heard  her  speak  upon  that  subject.  She  cannot 
at  all  bear  the  sight  of  a young  man,  but  noth- 
ing gives  her  greater  delight,  she  says,  than  to 
behold  a handsome  old  man  with  a majestic 
beard.  The  oldest  are  the  most  charming  to 
her,  so  I warn  you  beforehand  not  to  make  your- 
self look  younger  than  you  really  are.  She 
wishes  one  at  least  to  be  a sexa-genarian,  and 
it  is  not  more  than  four  months  ago,  that,  on  the 
point  of  being  married,  she  flatly  broke  off  the 
match,  when  it  come  out  that  her  lover  was  but 
fifty-six  years  of  age,  and  that  he  did  not  put 
spectacles  on  to  sign  the  contract. 

Har.  Only  for  that? 

Fro.  Yes.  She  says  fifty-six  will  not  do  for 


THE  MISER 


39 

her,  and  that  above  all  things  she  cares  for  noses 
that  wear  spectacles. 

Har.  You  certainly  tell  me  something  new 
there. 

Fro.  She  carries  it  farther  than  I could  tell 
you.  One  may  see  some  pictures  and  a few 
prints  in  her  room,  but  what  do  you  think  they 
are  ? Portraits  of  Adonis,  of  Cephalus,  of  Paris, 
and  of  Apollo?  Not  at  all.  Beautiful  likenesses 
of  Saturn,  of  king  Priam,  of  old  Nestor,  and  of 
good  father  Anchises  on  his  son’s  back. 

Har.  This  is  admirable.  That  is  what  I 
should  never  have  thought,  and  I am  very  glad 
to  hear  that  she  is  of  that  disposition.  In  fact, 
had  I been  a woman,  I should  never  have  cared 
for  young  men.  [Down  R.] 

Fro.  I should  think  so.  A nice  lot  they  are 
these  young  men,  to  care  for  them ! pretty  beau- 
ties, indeed,  these  fine  sparks  to  be  enamoured 
of ! I should  like  to  know  what  one  can  see  in 
them!  [ L . around  table.] 

Har.  As  for  me,  I cannot  understand  it  at 
all.  I do  not  know  how  there  are  women  who 
like  them  so  much.  [Around  R.  above  table.] 

Fro.  They  must  be  downright  fools.  Does 
it  sound  like  common  sense  to  think  youth  ami- 
able? Are  they  men  at  all,  these  young  fops, 
and  can  one  love  such  animals?  [Dozvn  L.  C. 
Sits  L.  of  table  L.] 

Har.  That  is  what  I say  every  day,  with 
their  voices  like  chicken-hearted  fellows,  three 
small  hairs  in  the  beard  twirled  like  a cat’s 
whiskers,  their  tow-wigs,  their  breeches  quite 
hanging  down,  and  their  open  breasts ! 

Fro.  [Rises]  Indeed ! they  are  well  built  com- 


40 


THE  MISER 


pared  with  a person  like  you!  That  is  what  I 
call  a man;  there  is  something  there  to  please 
the  sight,  and  that  is  the  way  to  be  made  and 
dressed  to  inspire  love. 

Har.  Then  you  like  my  appearance? 

Fro.  Do  I like  your  appearance!  You  are 
charming;  your  figure  is  worth  painting.  Turn 
round  a little,  if  you  please.  Nothing  could  be 
better.  Let  me  see  you  walk.  That  is  a well- 
built  body,  free  and  easy  as  it  ought  to  be,  and 
without  a sign  of  illness.  [Down  L.,  turns.] 

Har.  None  to  speak  of,  thank  Heaven.' 

Har.  [C]  Just  tell  me:  has  Mariane  not  seen 
me  yet?  She  has  not  taken  any  notice  of  me  in 
going  past? 

Fro.  No,  but  we  have  spoken  a great  deal  of 
you.  I have  tried  to  paint  your  person  to  her, 
and  I have  not  failed  to  vaunt  your  merits,  and 
the  advantage  which  it  would  be  to  her  to  have 
a husband  like  you. 

Har.  You  have  done  well,  and  I thank  you 
for  it. 

Fro.  I have,  Monsieur,  a slight  request  to  make 
to  you.  I have  a law-suit  which  I am  on  the  point 
of  losing  for  want  of  a little  money  [Harpagon 
assumes  a serious  look],  and  you  might  easily 
enable  me  to  gain  this  suit  by  doing  me  a little 
kindness.  You  would  not  believe  how  delighted 
she  will  be  to  see  you.  [ Harpagon  resumes  his 
liveliness]  How  you  will  charm  her,  and  how 
this  old-fashioned  ruff  will  take  her  fancy!  But 
above  all  things,  she  will  like  your  breeches. 

Har.  Certainly,  I am  delighted  to  hear  you 
say  so. 

Fro.  Really,  Monsieur,  this  law-suit  is  of  the 


THE  MISER 


41 


utmost  consequence  to  me.  [Harp agon  resumes 
his  serious  air ] If  I lose  it,  I am  ruined,  and  some 
little  assistance  would  set  my  affairs  in  order. 
. . . I should  like  you  to  have  seen  her  de- 

light at  hearing  me  speak  of  you.  [Harpagon 
resumes  his  liveliness ] Joy  shone  in  her  eyes  at 
the  enumeration  of  your  good  qualities,  and,  in 
short,  I have  made  her  very  anxious  to  have  this 
match  entirely  concluded. 

Har.  You  have  pleased  me  very  much,  Fros- 
ine,  and  I confess  that  I am  extremely  obliged 
to  you. 

Fro.  I pray  you.  Monsieur,  to  give  me  the  little 
assistance  which  I ask  of  you.  [ Harpagon  re- 
sumes his  serious  air,  crosses  L.]  It  will  put  me 
on  my  legs  again,  and  I shall  be  forever  grate- 
ful to  you. 

Har.  Good-bye.  I am  going  to  finish  my  let- 
ters. 

Fro.  I assure  you,  Monsieur,  that  you  could 
never  come  to  my  relief  in  a greater  need. 

Har.  I will  give  orders  that  my  coach  be 
ready  to  take  you  to  the  fair.  [Going  L.] 

Fro.  I would  not  trouble  you,  if  I were  not 
compelled  to  it  from  necessity.  [Follows  to 
table  L .] 

Har.  And  I will  take  care  that  the  supper 
shall  be  served  early. 

Fro.  Do  you  refuse  me  the  service  which  I 
ask  of  you.  You  would  not  believe,  monsieur, 
the  pleasure  which  . . . 

Har.  I must  be  gone.  Some  one  is  calling 
me.  Till  by-and-by.  [Exit  L.] 

Fro.  [Alone]  May  ague  seize  you,  and  send 
you  to  the  devil,  you  stingy  cur ! The  rascal  has 


42 


THE  MISER 


resisted  firmly  all  my  attacks.  But  I must,  for 
all  that,  not  abandon  the  attempt,  and  I have  got 
the  other  side,  from  whom,  at  any  rate,  I am 
certain  to  draw  a good  reward. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  III. 

[Harp agon,  Cleante,  Elise,  Valere;  Mis- 
tress Claude  holding  a broom,  Master 
Jacques,  La  Merluche,  Brinda- 

VOINE.  ] 

Har.  Come  here,  all  of  you,  that  I may  give 
you  my  orders  for  just  now,  and  tell  everyone 
what  he  has  to  do.  Come  here,  Mistress  Claude, 
let  us  begin  with  you.  [ Looking  at  her  broom] 
That  is  right,  arms  in  hand.  I trust  to  you  for 
cleaning  up  everywhere,  and,  above  all,  take  care 
not  to  rub  the  furniture  too  hard,  for  fear  of 
wearing  it  out.  Besides  this,  I appoint  you  to 
look  after  the  bottles  during  the  supper,  and, 
if  one  is  missing,  or  if  something  gets  broken,  1 
shall  hold  you  responsible,  and  deduct  it  from 
your  wages. 

Jac.  [Aside]  There  is  policy  in  that  punish- 
ment. 

Har.  [To  Mistress  Claude]  You  can  go. 

Har.  You,  Brindavoine,  and  you,  La  Mer- 
luche, I confide  to  you  the  care  of  rinsing  the 
glasses,  and  of  serving  out  the  drink,  but  only 
when  the  people  are  thirsty,  and  not  in  the  man- 
ner of  these  impertinent  lacqueys  who  come  and. 
provoke  them,  and  put  drinking  into  their  heads 


THE  MISER 


43 


when  they  have  no  thought  of  such  a thing. 
Wait  till  you  are  asked  for  it  more  than  once, 
and  bear  in  mind  always  to  bring  a good  deal 
of  water. 

Jac.  [Aside]  Yes.  Wine  undiluted  mounts 
to  the  head. 

Har.  [ Crosses  L.]  As  for  you,  daughter,  you 
will  keep  an  eye  upon  what  goes  away  from  the 
table,  and  take  care  that  nothing  be  wasted.  It 
becomes  girls  to  do  so.  Meanwhile,  get  yourself 
ready  to  receive  my  intended  properly.  She  is 
coming  to  visit  you,  and  will  take  you  to  the 
fair  with  her.  Do  you  hear  what  I say  to  you? 

El.  Yes,  father.  [Exit  L.] 

Har.  And  you,  my  foppish  son,  to  whom  I 
have  been  good  enough  to  forgive  what  has  hap- 
pened just  now,  do  not  take  it  into  your  head 
to  show  her  a sour  face. 

Cle.  I ! father  ? a sour  face ! And  for  what 
reason?  [L.  C .] 

Har.  [Turns  to  him]  Egad!  we  know  the 
ways  of  children  whose  fathers  marry  again,  and 
with  what  sort  of  eyes  they  are  in  the  habit  of 
looking  at  their  so-called  step-mothers.  But  if 
you  wish  me  to  lose  the  recollection  of  this  last 
escapade  of  yours,  I recommend  you,  above  all, 
to  show  this  lady  a friendly  countenance,  and  to 
give  her,  in  short,  the  best  possible  reception. 

Cle.  [Rises]  To  tell  you  the  truth,  father,  I 
cannot  promise  you  to  be  glad  that  she  is  to 
become  my  stepmother.  I should  tell  a lie  if  I 
said  so  to  you,  but,  as  for  receiving  her  weL 
and  showing  her  a friendly  countenance,  I prom- 
ise to  obey  you  punctually  on  this  head. 

Har.  Take  care  you  do,  at  least. 


44 


THE  MISER 


Cle.  You  shall  see  that  you  shall  have  no 
cause  to  complain. 

Har.  You  had  better.  [Clc.  exit  L.] 

Har.  You  will  have  to  help  me  in  this,  Valere. 
[Val.  L.]  Now,  Master  Jacques,  draw  near,  I 
have  left  you  for  the  last. 

Jac.  Is  it  to  your  coachman,  monsieur,  or  to 
your  cook,  that  you  wish  to  speak?  For  I am 
both  the  one  and  the  other. 

Har.  It  is  to  both. 

Jac.  But  to  which  of  the  two  first? 

Har.  To  the  cook. 

Jac.  Then  wait  a minute,  if  you  please. 

[Master  Jacques  takes  off  his  livery  coat, 
and  appears  in  a cook’s  dress.] 

Har.  What  the  deuce  does  that  ceremony 
mean  ? 

Jac.  You  have  but  to  speak  now. 

Har.  I have  promised,  Master  Jacques,  to 
give  a supper  to-night. 

Jac.  [Aside]  Most  miraculous ! 

Har.  Just  tell  me:  will  you  dish  us  up  some- 
thing good? 

Jac.  Yes,  if  you  give  me  plenty  of  money. 

Har.  The  deuce,  always  money.  It  seems 
to  me  as  if  they  could  speak  of  nothing  else; 
money,  money,  money!  [Turns  L.  to  Val]  It 
is  the  only  word  they  have  got  on  their  lips ; 
money ! they  always  speak  of  money ! That  is 
their  chief  argument,  money! 

Val.  I have  never  heard  a more  impertinent 
answer  than  that.  A great  wonder  to  dish  up 
something  good  with  plenty  of  money ! It  is  the 
easiest  thing  in  the  world ; any  fool  can  do  as 


THE  MISER  45 

much;  but  a clever  man  should  speak  of  dishing 
up  something  good  with  little  money. 

Jac.  Something  good  with  little  money! 

Val.  Yes. 

Jac.  [To  Valere]  Upon  my  word,  Master 
Steward,  you  would  oblige  us  by  showing  us 
that  secret,  and  by  taking  my  place  as  cook; 
you  that  are  meddling  with  everything  in  this 
house,  and  playing  the  factotum. 

Har.  Hold  your  tongue.  What  shall  we 
want  ? 

Jac.  Apply  to  your  steward  here,  who  will 
dish  you  up  something  good  for  little  money. 

Har.  Enough ! I wish  you  to  answer  me. 

Jac.  How  many  people  are  to  sit  down? 

Har.  We  shall  be  eight  or  ten,  but  you  must 
not  count  upon  more  than  eight.  If  there  is 
enough  for  eight,  there  is  enough  for  ten. 

Val.  That  needs  no  comment. 

Jac.  Very  well!  we  must  have  four  first-rate 
soups  and  five  small  dishes.  Soups  . . . 

Entrees  . . . 

Har.  What  the  devil ! there  is  enough  to  feed 
a whole  town. 

Jac.  Roast  . . . 

Har*  [Putting  his  hand  over  Jacques'  mouth] 
Hold ! wretch,  you  will  eat  up  all  my  substance. 

Jac.  Side-dishes. 

Har.  [Putting  his  hand  over  Jacques'  mouth 
again]  What!  more  still? 

Val.  [To  Jacques]  Do  you  intend  to  make 
every  one  burst?  and  think  you  that  master  has 
invited  people  with  the  intention  of  killing  them 
with  food?  Go  and  read  a little  the  precepts  of 
health,  and  ask  the  doctors  whether  there  is 


46 


THE  MISER 


aught  more  prejudicial  to  man  than  eating  to 
excess. 

Har.  He  is  right. 

Val.  Learn,  Master  Jacques,  you  and  the  like 
of  you/that  a table  overloaded  with  viands  is  a 
cut-throat  business ; that,  to  show  one’s  self  the 
friend  of  those  whom  one  invites,  frugality 
should  reign  in  the  meals  which  one  offers,  and 
that,  according  to  the  saying  of  an  ancient,  we 
must  eat  to  live,  and  not  live  to  eat. 

Har.  Ah  ! how  well  that  is  said ! Come  here, 
that  I may  embrace  you  for  that  saying.  This 
is  the  finest  sentence  that  I ever  heard  in  my  life : 
one  must  live  to  eat  and  not  eat  to  li  . . . 

No,  that  is  not  it.  How  do  you  put  it? 

Val.  That  we  must  eat  to  live , and  not  live  to 
eat. 

Har.  [To  Master  Jacques ] That  is  it.  Do 
you  hear  it?  [To  Valere]  Who  is  the  great  man 
who  said  that? 

Val.  I do  not  recollect  his  name  just  now. 

Har.  Just  remember  to  write  down  these 
words  for  me : I wish  to  have  them  engraved  in 
letters  of  gold  on  the  mantel-piece  of  my  dining- 
room. 

Val.  I shall  not  forget  it.  And  as  for  your 
supper,  you  have  but  to  leave  it  to  me ; I shall 
manage  everything  right  enough. 

Har.  Do  so. 

Jac.  So  much  the  better ! I shall  have  less 
trouble. 

Har.  [To  Valero]  We  must  have  some  of 
these  things  oil  which  people  eat  very  little,  and 
whiHrflL%uickly ; some  good  fat  beans,  *with  a 


THE  MISER  47 

potted  pie,  well  stuffed  with  chestnuts.  Let  there 
be  plenty  of  that. 

Val.  Depend  upon  me.  [Up  L.  above  table.] 

Har.  And  now,  Master  Jacques,  you  must 
clean  my  coach. 

Jac.  Wait;  that  is  a matter  for  the  coachman. 
[Puts  his  livery  coat  on]  You  were  saying 

Har.  That  you  must  clean  my  coach,  and 
hold  the  horses  in  readiness  to  drive  to  the 
fair  . . . 

Jac.  Your  horses,  monsieur?  Upon  my  word, 
they  are  not  at  all  in  a fit  state  to  go. 

Har.  They  are  very  ill,  and  yet  they  are  doing 
nothing ! 

Jac.  And  because  they  do  nothing,  monsiem, 
must  they  not  eat?  It  would  be  far  better  to 
work  the  poor  brutes  much,  and  to  feed  them 
the  same.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  them  in 
such  a wretched  condition;  for,  after  all,  I have 
got  tender  feeling  for  my  horses ; it  seems  to  me 
that  it  is  myself,  when  I see  them  suffer.  Not 
a day  passes  but  I take  the  meat  out  of  my  own 
mouth  to  feed  them,  and,  monsieur,  it  is  being 
too  cruel  to  have  no  pity  for  one’s  neighbour. 

Har.  The  work  will  not  be  very  hard  to  go  as 
far  as  the  fair. 

Jac.  No,  monsieur,  I have  not  the  heart  to 
drive  them,  and  I would  not  have  it  on  my  con- 
science to  give  them  the  whip  in  the  state  in 
which  they  are.  How  can  you  wish  them  to 
draw  a coach  when  they  can  hardly  drag  them- 
selves along? 

Val,  Monsieur,  I will  make  our  neighbor, 
Picard,  take  charge  of  them  and  drive  them;  he 


48 


THE  MISER 


will  be  at  the  same  time  needed  to  get  the  supper 
ready. 

Jac.  Be  it  so ; I prefer  their  dying  under 
other  people’s  hands  than  under  mine. 

Val.  Master  Jacques  is  getting  considerate! 

Jac.  Sir  Steward  is  getting  indispensable ! 

Har.  Peace. 

Jac.  I cannot  bear  flatterers,  monsieur,  and 
I see  what  he  makes  of  it ; that  his  perpetual 
looking  after  the  bread,  the  wine,  the  wood,  the 
salt,  the  candles,  is  done  only  with  the  view  of 
currying  favour  with  you,  and  getting  into  your 
good  books.  This  drives  me  mad,  and  I am 
sorry  to  hear  every  day  what  the  world  says  of 
yon ; for,  after  all,  I have  some  feeling  for  you ; 
and,  after  my  horses,  you  are  the  person  whom  I 
love  most. 

Har.  Might  I know,  Master  Jacques,  what 
people  say  of  me? 

Jac.  Yes,  monsieur,  if  I could  be  sure  that  it 
would  not  make  you  angry. 

Har.  No,  not  in  the  least. 

Jac.  I beg  your  pardon ; I know  full  well  that 
I shall  put  you  in  a rage. 

Har.  Not  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  it  will  be 
obliging  me,  and  I shall  be  glad  to  learn  how 
people  speak  of  me. 

Jac.  Since  you  will  have  it,  Sir,  I shall  tell 
you  frankly  that  people  everywhere  make  a jest 
of  you,  that  they  pelt  us  with  a thousand  jokes 
from  every  quarter  on  your  account,  and  that 
they  are  never  more  delighted  than  when  holding 
you  up  to  ridicule,  and  continually  relating  sto- 
ries of  your  meanness.  One  says  that  you 
have  special  almanacks  printed,  in  which  you 


THE  MISER 


49 


double  the  ember  weeks  and  vigils,  in  order  to 
profit  by  the  fast  days,  which  you  compel  your 
people  to  keep;  another  that  you  have  always  a 
quarrel  ready  for  your  servants  at  New  Year’s 
day,  or  when  they  leave  you,  so  that  you  may 
find  a reason  for  not  giving  them  anything.  That 
one  tells  that  you  once  sued  one  of  your  neigh- 
bour’s cats  for  having  eaten  the  remainder  of  a 
leg  of  mutton ; this  one  again  that  you  were  sur- 
prised one  night  in  purloining  the  hay  of  your 
own  horses,  and  that  your  coachman,  that  is,  the 
one  who  was  here  before  me,  dealt  you  I do  not 
know  how  many  blows  in  the  dark,  of  which  you 
never  broached  a word.  In  short,  shall  I tell 
you?  one  can  go  nowhere  without  hearing  you 
hauled  over  the  coals  on  all  sides.  You  are  the 
byword  and  laughing-stock  of  every  one,  and  you 
are  never  spoken  of,  except  under  the  names  of 
miser,  curmudgeon,  hunks  and  usurer.  [Val. 
crosses  up  L.  C.] 

Har.  [ Thrashing  Master  Jacques ] You  are  a 
numbscull,  a rascal,  a scoundrel,  and  an  impudent 
fellow.  [ Throws  Jac.  on  floor  to  R.] 

Jac.  Well ! did  I not  say  so  beforehand?  You 
would  not  believe  me.  I told  you  well  enough 
that  I should  make  you  angry  by  telling  you  the 
truth. 

Har.  That  will  teach  you  how  to  speak. 

Exit.] 

Val.  [ Laughing ] From  what  I can  see,  Mas- 
ter Jacques,  your  candour  is  ill  rewarded. 

Jac.  Zounds ! Master  Upstart,  who  assume 
the  man  of  consequence,  it  is  not  your  business. 
Laugh  at  your  cudgel-blows  when  you  shall  re- 


50 


THE  MISER 


ccive  them,  blit  do  not  come  here  to  laugh  at 
mine. 

Val.  Ah!  Sir  Master  Jacques,  do  not  get 
angry,  I beg  of  you. 

Jac.  [Aside]  He  is  knuckling  under.  I shall 
bully  him,  and,  if  he  is  fool  enough  to  be  afraid 
of  me,  I shall  give  him  a gentle  drubbing. 
[Aloud]  Are  you  aware,  Master  Laughter,  that 
I am  not  in  a laughing  humour,  and  that  if  you 
annoy  me,  I will  make  you  laugh  on  the  wrong 
side  of  your  mouth. 

[Master  Jacques  drives  Valere  to  the  far 
end  of  the  stage , threatening  him,  push- 
ing him  L.  above  and  around  table  back 
to  C.] 

Val.  Eh ! gently. 

Jac.  How  gently?  it  does  not  suit  me. 

Val.  Pray! 

Jac.  You  are  an  impertinent  fellow. 

Val.  Sir  Master  Jacques  . . . 

Jac.  There  is  no  Sir  Master  Jacques  at  all.  If 
I had  a stick,  I would  give  you  a good  drubbing. 

Val.  How,  a stick!  [Valere  makes  Master 
Jacques  retreat  in  his  turn  to  the  L.  and  Jac . 
drops  into  a chair  at  L.,  second  ent.] 

Jac.  Eh ! I was  not  speaking  of  that. 

Val.  Are  you  aware,  Master  Boaster,  that  I 
am  the  very  man  to  give  you  a drubbing  myself? 

Jac.  I do  not  doubt  it. 

Val.  That  you  are,  in  all,  nothing  but  a scrub 
of  a cook? 

Jac.  I am  well  aware  of  it. 

Val.  And  that  you  do  not  know  me  yet? 

Jac.  I ask  your  pardon. 

Val.  You  will  thrash  me,  say  you? 


THE  MISER 


5i 


Jac.  I said  so  only  in  jest. 

Val.  And  I say,  that  I do  not  relish  your 
jests.  [ Thrashing  him  with  a stick]  This  will 
teach  you,  that  you  are  but  a sorry  clown.  [Exit 
L.,  second  cut.] 

Jac.  [Alone]  The  plague  take  my  candour! 
it  is  a bad  business : I give  it  up  for  the  future, 
and  I will  no  more  speak  the  truth.  I might  put 
up  with  it  from  my  master;  he  has  some  right 
to  thrash  me;  but  as  for  this  Master  Steward, 
I will  have  my  revenge  if  I can. 

[Enter  Mariane,  Frosine.] 

Fro.  Do  you  know,  Master  Jacques,  if  your 
master  is  at  home?  [Sits  above  table  R.  Mar. 
sits  up  R.  C.] 

Jac.  Yes,  indeed,  he  is ; I know  it  but  too 

well. 

Fro.  Tell  him,  pray,  that  we  are  here.  [Jac. 
exit  L.,  second  E.] 

Mar.  Ah!  I feel  very  strange,  Frosine!  and, 
if  I must  tell  you  what  I feel,  I dread  this  inter- 
view ! 

Fro.  But  why,  and  whence  this  uneasiness? 

Mar.  Alas ! can  you  ask  me  ? and  can  you  not 
imagine  the  alarms  of  any  one  at  the  sight  of 
the  rack  to  which  she  is  going  to  be  tied  ? 

Fro.  I see  well  enough,  that  to  die  pleasantly, 
Harpagon  is  not  exactly  the  rack  which  you 
would  care  to  embrace;  and  I can  see  by  your 
face,  that  this  young  spark,  of  whom  you  spoke 
to  me,  comes  afresh  into  your  head. 

Mar.  Yes!  it  is  an  accusation,  Frosine,  from 
which  I shall  not  defend  myself ; and  the  re- 


5^ 


THE  MISER 


spectful  visits  which  he  has  paid  us,  have,  I 
confess,  made  some  impression  on  my  heart. 

Fro.  But  have  you  ascertained  who  he  is? 

Mar.  No,  I do  not  know  who  he  is.  But  this 
I know,  that  he  is  made  to  be  beloved:  that,  if 
things  could  be  left  to  my  choice,  I would  sooner 
have  him  than  any  other, >&nd  that  he  is  the  chief 
cause  in  making  me  feel  that  the  husband  whom 
they  wish  to  give  me  is  a terrible  torment. 

Fro.  Egad,  all  these  youngsters  are  agree- 
able, and  play  their  part  well  enough,  but  most 
of  them  are  as  poor  as  church  mice:  it  will  be 
much  better  for  you  to  take  an  old  husban'd  who 
will  make  you  a good  settlement.  I grant  you 
that  the  senses  will  not  find  their  account  so  well 
on  the  side  I speak  of,  and  that  there  are  some 
little  distastes  to  overcome  with  such  a spouse; 
but  that  cannot  last,  and  his  death,  believe  me, 
will  soon  put  you  in  a position  to  take  one  who 
is  more  amiable,  and  who  will  mend  all  things. 

Mar.  Good  gracious ! Frosine,  it  is  a strange 
thing  that,  to  be  happy,  we  should  wish  for  or 
await  the  death  of  some  one;  the  more  so  as 
death  does  not  always  accommodate  itself  to  our 
projects.  [Rises  L.  C.] 

Fro.  Are  you  jesting?  You  marry  him  only 
oh  condition  of  soon  leaving  you  a widow,  and 
that  must  be  one  of  the  articles  of  the  contract. 
It  would  be  impertinent  in  him  not  to  die  within 
three  months  ! Here  he  is  himself ! 

Mar.  Ah!  Frosine,  what  a figure! 

[Enter  Harpacon.] 

Har.  [To  Mariane]  Do  not  be  offended,  my 
beauty,  that  I come  to  you  with  my  spectacles  on. 


THE  MISER 


53 


I know  that  your  charms  strike  the  eye  suffi- 
ciently, are  visible  enough  by  themselves,  and 
that  there  is  no  need  of  spectacles  to  perceive 
them;  but  after  all,  it  is  through  glasses  that  we 
look  at  the  stars ; and  I maintain  and  vouch  for 
it  that  you  are  a star,  but  a star,  the  brightest  in 
the  land  of  stars.  Frosine,  she  does  not  answer 
a word,  and  does  not  testify,  from  what  I can 
perceive,  the  slightest  joy  in  seeing  me. 

Fro.  It  is  because  she  is  as  yet  taken  all  aback, 
and  besides,  girls  are  always  ashamed  to  show 
at  first  sight  what  passes  in  their  hearts. 

Har.  You  are  right.  [To  Mariane ] Here 
comes  my  daughter,  sweet  child,  to  welcome  you. 

[Enter  Elise.] 

Mar.  [Dozen  R.]  I am  much  behind,  Madame, 
in  acquitting  myself  of  such  a visit. 

El.  You  have  done,  Madame,  what  it  was 
my  duty  to  do,  and  it  was  my  place  to  have  been 
beforehand  with  you. 

Har.  You  see  what  a great  girl  she  is,  but  ill 
weeds  grow  apace.  [El.  turns  L.] 

Mar.  [In  a whisper,  to  Frosine ] O ! what  an 
unpleasant  man ! 

Har.  [In  a whisper,  to  Frosine ] What  says 
the  fair  one? 

Fro.  That  she  thinks  you  admirable. 

Har.  You  do  me  too  much  honour,  adorable 
pet.  [Crosses  R.  to  Mar.] 

Mar.  [Aside]  What  a brute!  [Fro.  above 
table  I?.] 

Har.  I am  much  obliged  to  you  for  these  sen- 
timents. 

Mar.  [Aside]  I can  hold  out  no  longer. 


54 


THE  MISER 


[Enter  Cleante  and  Jac.] 

Har.  There  comes  my  son  also,  to  pay  his 
respects  to  yon.  [Crosses  L.  to  table.] 

Mar.  [In  a whisper , to  Frosine]  Ah ! Frosine, 
what  a meeting ! It  is  the  very  person  of  whom 
I spoke  to  you. 

Fro.  [To  Mariane]  The  adventure  is  wonder- 
ful. 

FIar.  I see  that  you  are  surprised  at  my  hav- 
ing such  groj*Tn-up  children,  but  I shall  soon  be 
rid  of  one  and  the  other. 

Cle.  [To  Mariane]  Madame,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  this  is  an  adventure,  which  no  doubt,  I did 
not  expect,  and  my  father  has  not  a little  aston- 
ished me,  when,  a short  time  ago,  he  communi- 
cated to  me  the  plan  which  he  had  formed. 
[Crosses  to  Mar.] 

Mar.  I may  say  the  same  thing.  It  is  an 
unforeseen  meeting  which  surprises  me  as  much 
as  it  does  you,  and  I was  not  at  all  prepared  for 
such  an  adventure. 

Cle.  It  is  true  that  my  father,  Madame,  could 
not  make  a better  choice,  and  that  the  honour  of 
seeing  you  gives  me  unfeigned  joy,  but  for  all 
that  I cannot  give  you  the  assurance  that  I re- 
joice at  the  design  which  you  may  have  of  be- 
coming my  step-mother.  I avow  to  you  that  it 
would  be  too  much  for  me  to  pay  you  that  com- 
pliment, and  by  your  leave,  it  is  a title  which  I 
do  not  wish  you.  This  speech  may  seem  coarse 
to  some,  but  I am  sure  that  you  will  be  the  one 
to  take  it  in  the  proper  sense;  that  it  is  a mar- 
riage, Madame,  for  which,  as  you  may  well  imag- 
ine, I can  only  have  repugnance ; that  you  are 
not  unaware,  knowing  what  I am,  how  it  clashes 


THE  MISER 


55 


with  my  interests,  and  that,  in  short,  you  will 
not  take  it  amiss  when  I tell  you,  with  the  per- 
mission of  my  father,  that,  if  matters  depended 
upon  me,  this  marriage  would  not  take  place. 

Har.  This  is  a most  impertinent  compliment! 
What  a pretty  confession  to  make  to  her ! 

Mar.  And  I,  in  reply,  must  tell  you,  that 
things  are  pretty  equal,  and  that,  if  you  have  any 
repugnance  in  seeing  me  your  step-mother,  I 
shall  have,  doubtless,  no  less  in  seeing  you  my 
step-son.  Do  not  think,  I pray  you,  that  it  is  I 
who  seek  to  give  you  that  uneasiness.  I should 
be  very  sorry  to  cause  you  any  displeasure,  and 
unless  I see  myself  compelled  to  it  by  an  absolute 
power,  I give  you  my  word  that  I shall  not  con- 
sent to  a marriage  that  vexes  you. 

Har.  She  is  right.  To  a silly  compliment,  a 
similar  retort  is  necessary.  I beg  your  pardon, 
my  dear,  for  the  impertinence  of  my  son.  [Cle. 
up  L.] 

Mar.  I promise  you  that  what  he  has  said  has 
not  at  all  offended  me ; on  the  contrary,  he  has 
pleased  me  by  explaining  thus  his  real  feelings. 
[Dozvn  R.]  I like  such  an  avowal  from  his  lips, 
and  if  he  had  spoken  in  any  other  way,  I should 
have  esteemed  him  the  less  for  it. 

Har.  It  is  too  good  of  you  to  be  willing  thus 
to  condone  his  faults.  Time  will  make  him  wiser, 
and  you  shall  see  that  he  will  alter  his  senti- 
ments. 

Cle.  No,  father,  I am  incapable  of  changing 
upon  that  point,  and  I beg  urgently  of  this  lady 
to  believe  me.  [Drops  L.  down  around  table.] 

Har.  But  see  what  madness ! he  goes  still 
more  strongly. 


56 


THE  MISER 


Cle.  Do  you  wish  me  to  go  against  my  own 
heart  ? 

Har.  Again ! Perhaps  you  will  be  kind 
enough  to  change  the  conversation. 

Cle.  Well ! since  you  wish  me  to  speak  in  a 
different  manner,  allow  me,  Madame  [Crosses  to 
her],  to  put  myself  in  my  father’s  place,  and  to 
confess  to  you  that  I have  seen  nothing  in  the 
world  so  charming  as  you ; that  I conceive  noth- 
ing equal  to  the  happiness  of  pleasing  you,  and 
that  the  title  of  your  husband  is  a glory,  a 
felicity  which  I would  prefer  to  the  destinies  of 
the  greatest  princes  on  earth.  Yes,  Madame,  the 
happiness  of  possessing  you  is,  in  my  eyes,  the 
best  of  all  good  fortunes ; the  whole  of  my  ambi- 
tion points  to  that.  There  is  nothing  which  I 
would  shrink  from  to  make  so  precious  a con- 
quest, and  the  most  powerful  obstacles  . . . 

Har.  Gently,  son,  if  you  please. 

Cle.  It  is  a compliment  which  I pay  for  you 
this  lady. 

Har.  Good  Heavens ! I have  a tongue  to  ex- 
plain myself,  and  I have  no  need  of  an  inter- 
preter like  you.  Come,  hand  chairs.  [Drops 
down  L.] 

Fro.  No,  it  is  better  that  we  should  go  to  the 
fair  now,  so  that  we  may  return  the  sooner,  and 
have  ample  time  afterwards  to  converse  with 
you.  [Goes  up  R.  above  table.] 

Har.  [To  Jac.]  Have  the  horses  put  to  the 
carriage. 

Har.  [To  Mariane]  I pray  you  to  excuse  me, 
fair  child,  if  I forgot  to  offer  you  some  refresh- 
ments before  going. 

Cle.  I have  provided  for  it,  father,  and  have 


THE  MISER 


57 


ordered  some  plates  of  China  oranges,  sweet 
citrons,  and  preserves,  which  I have  sent  for  in 
your  name.  [Up  L.  C.] 

Har.  [Softly  to  Valere]  Valere! 

Val.  [To  Harpagon ] He  has  lost  his  senses. 

Cle.  Do  you  think,  father,  that  it  is  not  suffi- 
cient? This  lady  will  have  the  goodness  to  ex- 
cuse that,  if  it  please  her.  [Turns  L.] 

Mar.  It  was  not  at  all  necessary. 

Cle.  Have  you  ever  seen,  Madame,  a dia- 
mond more  sparkling  than  the  one  which  you  see 
on  my  father's  finger? 

Mar.  It  sparkles  much  indeed. 

Cle.  [Taking  the  diamond  off  his  fathers 
fingers , and  handing  it  to  Mariane ] You  must 
see  it  close. 

Mar.  It  is  no  doubt  very  beautiful,  and 
throws  out  a deal  of  light. 

Cle.  [Placing  himself  before  Mariane,  who 
is  about  to  return  the  diamond ] No,  Madame,  it 
is  in  hands  too  beautiful.  It  is  a present  which 
my  father  makes  you. 

Har.  I? 

Cle.  Is  it  not  true,  father,  that  you  wish  this 
lady  to  keep  it  for  your  sake  ? 

Har.  [Softly  to  his  son ] How? 

Cle.  [To  Mariane ] A pretty  request  indeed! 
He  has  given  me  a sign  to  make  you  accept  it. 

Mar.  I do  not  wish  to  . . . 

Cle.  [To  Mariane]  Are  you  jesting?  He 
does  not  care  to  take  it  back  again. 

Har.  [Aside]  I am  bursting  with  rage ! 

Mar.  It  would  be  . . . 

Cle.  [Preventing  Mariane  from  returning  the 


58  THE  MISER 

diamond]  No,  I tell  you,  you  would  offend  him. 

Mar.  Pray  . . . 

Cle.  Not  at  all. 

Har.  [Aside]  May  the  plague  . . . 

Cle.  He  is  getting  angry  at  your  refusal. 

Har.  [Softly  to  his  son]  Ah!  you  wretch! 

Cle.  [To  Mariane]  You  see  that  he  is  get- 
ting desperate. 

Har.  [In  a suppressed  tone  to  his  son , threat- 
ening him]  Murderer  that  you  are ! 

Cle.  It  is  not  my  fault,  father.  I am  doing 
all  I can  to  make  her  keep  it,  but  she  is  obstinate. 

Har.  [In  a great  passion , whispering  to  his 
son]  Hangdog! 

Cle.  You  are  the  cause,  Madame,  of  my 
father’s  upbraiding  me. 

Har.  [Same  as  before , to  his  son]  The  scoun- 
drel ! 

Cle.  [To  Mariane]  You  will  make  him  ill. 
Pray,  Madame,  do  not  resist  any  longer. 

Fro.  [To  Mariane]  Good  Heavens,  what  cer- 
emonies ! Keep  the  ring,  since  the  gentleman 
wishes  it.  [Draws  Mar.  down  R.}  Goes  up  R. 
above  table.] 

Mar.  [To  Harpagon]  Not  to  put  you  in  a 
passion,  I shall  keep  it  now,  and  I shall  take 
another  opportunity  of  returning  it  to  you. 

Jac.  Monsieur,  there  is  a man  who  wishes  to 
speak  to  you. 

Har.  Tell  him  that  I am  engaged,  that  he 
is  to  return  at  another  time. 

Jac.  He  says  that  he  brings  you  some  money. 

Har.  [To  Mariane]  I beg  your  pardon;  I 
shall  be  back  directly. 


THE  MISER  59 

Jac.  [Running  against  Harpagon,  whom  he 
knocks  down]  Sir  . . . 

II ar.  Oh  ! I am  killed. 

Cle.  What  is  it,  father?  have  you  hurt  your- 
self? 

Har.  The  wretch  has  surely  been  bribed  by 
my  debtors  to  make  me  break  my  neck. 

Val.  [To  Harpagon]  That  will  be  nothing. 
[Picking  him  up.] 

Jac.  [To  Harpagon]  I beg  your  pardon,  mon- 
sieur. I thought  I was  doing  well  in  running 
quickly. 

Har.  What  have  you  come  here  for,  you 
hangdog  ? 

Jac.  To  tell  you  that  your  two  horses  have 
lost  their  shoes. 

Har.  Let  them  be  taken  to  the  farrier  imme- 
diately. 

Cle.  While  waiting  for  their  being  shod,  I 
will  do  the  honours  of  your  house  for  you,  father, 
and  conduct  this  lady  into  the  garden,  whither  I 
shall  have  the  refreshments  brought.  [Exit  to 
garden,  with  Mar.,  Elise  and  Frosine.] 

Har.  Valere,  keep  your  eye  a little  on  all  this, 
and  take  care,  I pray  you,  to  save  as  much  of  it 
as  you  can,  to  send  back  to  the  tradespeople. 

Val.  I know. 

Har.  [Alone]  O,  impertinent  son!  do  you 
mean  to  ruin  me? 

CURTAIN. 


6o 


THE  MISER 


ACT  IV. 

[Enter  Cleante,  Elise,  Mariane  and  Frosine.] 

Cle.  Let  us  go  in  here ; we  shall  be  much  bet- 
ter. There  is  no  suspicious  person  near  us  now, 
and  we  can  converse  freely.  [Drops  to  L.  of 
table.] 

El.  Yes,  my  brother  has  confided  to  me  the 
affection  which  he  feels  for  you.  I am  aware  of 
the  grief  and  unpleasantness  which  such  obstacles 
are  capable  of  causing,  and  it  is,  I assure  you, 
with  the  utmost  tenderness  that  I interest  myself 
in  your  adventure.  [R.  of  Mar.] 

Mar.  It  is  a sweet  consolation  to  see  some  one 
like  you  in  one’s  interest,  and  I implore  you, 
Madame,  always  to  reserve  for  me  this  generous 
friendship,  so  capable  of  alleviating  the  cruelties 
of  fortune.  [Sits  at  R.  of  table  down  left.] 

Fro.  You  are,  upon  my  word,  both  unlucky 
people,  in  not  having  warned  me  before  this  of 
your  affair.  I would,  no  doubt,  have  warded  off 
this  uneasiness  from  you,  and  not  have  carried 
matters  so  far  as  they  now  are.  [Drops  to  table 
R.  and  sits  L.  of  same.] 

Cle.  Whose  fault  is  it?  It  is  my  evil  destiny 
that  has  willed  it  so.  But,  fair  Mariane,  what 
have  you  resolved  to  do?  [Elise  up  back  of 
desk.] 

Mar.  Alas ! am  I able  to  make  any  resolu- 
tions? And,  in  the  dependent  position  in  which 
you  see  me,  can  I form  aught  else  than  wishes? 

Cle.  No  other  support  in  your  heart  for  me 
than  mere  wishes?  No  strenuous  pity?  No  help- 
ing kindness?  No  energetic  affection? 

Mar.  What  can  I say  to  you?  Put  yourself 


THE  MISER 


6 1 


in  my  place,  and  see  what  I can  do.  Advise,  com- 
mand yourself : I leave  the  matter  to  you,  and  I 
think  you  too  reasonable  to  wish  to  exact  from 
me  aught  but  what  may  be  consistent  with  honour 
and  decency. 

Cle.  Alas  ! to  what  strait  do  you  reduce  me  by 
driving  me  back  to  what  the  annoying  dictates 
of  a rigorous  honour  and  a scrupulous  decency 
only  will  permit ! 

Mar.  But  what  would  you  have  me  do  ? Even 
if  I could  forego  the  many  scruples  to  which  my 
sex  compels  me,  I have  some  consideration  for 
my  mother.  [Cle.  drops  L.,  turns.]  She  has 
always  brought  me  up  with  the  utmost  tender- 
ness, and  I could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  cause 
her  any  displeasure.  Treat,  transact  with  her; 
use  all  your  means  to  gain  her  mind.  You  may 
say  and  do  whatever  you  like,  I give  you  full 
power,  and  if  nothing  is  wanting  but  to  declare 
myself  in  your  favour,  I am  willing,  myself,  to 
make  to  her  the  avowal  of  all  that  I feel  for  you. 

Cle.  [Crosses  R.  to  Fro.]  Frosine,  dear 
Frosine,  will  you  try  to  serve  us? 

Fro.  [Elise  goes  above  table  to  L.]  Upon 
my  word,  need  you  ask  ? I should  like  it  with  all 
my  heart.  You  know  that,  naturally,  I am  kind- 
hearted  enough.  Heaven  has  not  given  me  a 
heart  of  iron,  and  I have  only  too  much  inclina- 
tion for  rendering  little  services  when  I see  people 
who/ love  each  other  in  all  decency  and  honour. 
What  can  we  do  in  this  matter? 

Cle.  * Pray  consider  a little. 

Mar.  Give  us  some  advice. 

El.  [Up  C.;  sits.]  Invent  some  means  of 
undoing  what  you  have  done. 


62 


THE  MISER 


Fro.  [ Crosses  L.  to  Mar.]  That  is  difficult 
enough.  [To  Mariane ] As  for  your  mother,  she 
is  not  altogether  unreasonable,  and  we  might  per- 
haps prevail  upon  her  and  induce  her  to  transfer 
to  the  son  the  gift  which  she  wished  to  make  to 
the  father.  [To  Cleante ] But  the  mischief  in  it 
is,  that  your  father  is  your  father. 

Cle.  Of  course. 

Fro.  I mean  that  he  will  bear  malice  if  he 
finds  that  he  is  refused,  and  that  he  will  not  be 
of  a mind  afterwards  to  give  his  consent  to  your 
marriage.  To  do  well,  the  refusal  ought  to  come 
from  himself,  and  she  ought  to  try,  by  some 
means,  to  inspire  him  with  a disgust  towards  her. 

Cle.  You  are  right.  Be  assured  of 

my  gratitude,  Frosine,  if  you  carry  out  this  mat- 
ter. [Crosses  L.  to  Mar.]  But,  charming 
Mariane,  let  us  begin,  I pray  you,  by  gaining  over 
your  mother;  it  is  doing  much,  at  any  rate,  to 
break  off  this  match.  Make  every  possible  effort 
on  your  part,  I entreat  you.  Employ  all  the 
power  which  her  tenderness  for  you  gives  you 
over  her.  Show  her  unreservedly  the  eloquent 
graces,  the  all-powerful  charms,  with  which 
Heaven  has  endowed  your  eyes  and  your  lips ; 
and  please  do  not  overlook  any  of  these  tender 
words,  of  these  sweet  prayers,  and  of  these  win- 
ning caresses  to  which,  I am  persuaded,  nothing 
could  be  refused. 

Mar.  I will  do  my  best,  and  forget  nothing. 
[Cle.  kisses  hand  of  Mar.] 

[Enter  Harpagon.] 

Har.  [Aside,  without  being  seen]  Hey  day ! 
my  son  kisses  the  hand  of  his  intended  step- 


THE  MISER 


63 


mother;  and  his  intended  step-mother  does  not 
seem  to  take  it  much  amiss ! Can  there  be  any 
mystery  underneath  this? 

El.  [Drops  down  L.  to  Cle.  and  Mar.]  Here 
is  my  father. 

Har.  The  carriage  is  quite  ready;  you  can 
start  as  soon  as  you  like. 

Cle.  Since  you  are  not  going,  father,  permit 
me  to  escort  them.  [Exeunt  R.  3 E.  Mar.,  Fro., 
and  Elise .] 

Har.  No:  remain  here.  They  will  do  well 
enough  by  themselves,  and  I want  you.  [Drops 
down  R . below  table.] 

Har.  Now  tell  me,  apart  from  becoming  your 
step-mother,  what  think  you  of  this  lady?  [37k? 
at  table.] 

Cle.  What  do  I think  of  her? 

Har.  Yes,  of  her  air,  of  her  figure,  of  her 
beauty,  of  her  mind? 

Cle.  So,  so.  [Crosses  belozv  table  at  L.  to  C.] 

Har.  That  is  no  answer. 

Cle.  To  speak  to  you  candidly,  I have  not 
found  her  what  I expected.  Her  air  is  that  of  a 
downright  coquette,  her  figure  is  sufficiently  awk- 
ward, her  beauty  very  so-so,  and  her  mind  very 
ordinary.  Do  not  think,  father,  that  this  is  said 
to  give  you  a distaste  to  her ; for,  step-mother  for 
step-mother,  I would  as  soon  have  her  as  any 
other.  [Turns  L.] 

Har.  You  said  to  her  just  now,  however,  . . . 

Cle.  I have  said  some  sweet  nothings  to  her 
in  your  name,  but  it  was  to  please  you. 

Har.  So  much  so,  that  you  would  not  feel  any 
inclination  towards  her  ? 

Cle.  I ? not  at  all. 


64 


THE  MISER 


Har.  I am  sorry  for  it ; for  it  does  away  with 
an  idea  that  came  into  my  head.  In  seeing  her 
here,  I have  reflected  upon  my  age ; and  I thought 
that  people  might  find  something  to  cavil  at  in 
seeing  me  marry  so  young  a girl.  This  considera- 
tion has  made  me  abandon  the  plan;  and  as  I 
have  made  the  demand  of  her  hand,  and  am  en- 
gaged to  her  by  my  word,  I would  have  given  her 
to  you,  had  it  not  been  for  the  aversion  which  you 
show. 

Cle.  To  me? 

Har.  To  you. 

Cle.  In  marriage  ? 

Har.  In  marriage. 

Cle.  Listen.  It  is  true  that  she  is  not  much 
to  my  taste;  but  to  please  you,  father,  I would 
make  up  my  mind  to  marry  her,  if  you  wish  it. 

Har.  I,  I am  more  reasonable  than  you  give 
me  credit  for.  I will  not  force  your  inclination. 

Cle.  Pardon  me;  I will  make  this  effort  for 
your  sake.  [Turns  to  table.] 

Har.  No,  no.  No  marriage  can  be  happy 
where  there  is  no  inclination. 

Cle.  Perhaps  it  will  come  afterwards,  father ; 
they  say  that  love  is  often  the  fruit  of  wedlock. 

Har.  No.  From  the  side  of  the  man  one  must 
not  risk  such  a thing ; it  generally  brings  grievous 
consequences,  to  which  I do  not  care  to  commit 
myself.  Had  you  felt  any  inclination  for  her,  it 
would  have  been  a different  thing ; I should  have 
made  you  marry  her  instead  of  me ; but,  that  not 
being  the  case,  I will  follow  up  my  first  plan,  and 
marry  her  myself. 

Cle.  Well ! father,  since  matters  are  so,  I 
must  lay  open  my  heart  to  you ; I must  reveal  our 


THE  MISER 


65 


secret  to  you.  The  truth  is,  I love  her,  since,  on 
a certain  day,  I saw  her  walking;  that  my  plan 
was,  a short  while  ago,  to  ask  her  to  become  my 
wife,  and  that  nothing  restrained  me  but  the 
declaration  of  your  sentiments,  and  the  fear  of 
displeasing  you. 

Har.  Have  you  paid  her  any  visits? 

Cle.  Yes,  father. 

Har.  Many  times? 

Cle.  Just  enough,  considering  the  time  of  our 
acquaintance. 

Har.  Have  you  been  well  received? 

Cle.  V ery  well,  indeed,  but  without  her 
knowing  who  I was;  and  that  is  what  just  now 
caused  the  surprise  of  Mariane. 

Har.  Have  you  declared  your  passion  to  her, 
and  the  design  you  had  to  marry  her  ? 

Cle.  Undoubtedly;  and  I even  made  some 
overtures  to  her  mother  about  it. 

Har.  Has  she  listened  to  your  proposal  for 
her  daughter  ? 

Cle.  Yes,  very  civilly. 

Har.  And  does  the  girl  much  reciprocate 
your  love? 

Cle.  If  I am  to  believe  appearances,  I flatter 
myself,  father,  that  she  has  some  afifection  for 
me.  [Drops  L .] 

Har.  [Softly,  to  himself ] I am  glad  to  have 
found  out  such  a secret;  that  is  just  what  I 
wished.  [H/owc/]Hark  you,  my  son,  do  you  know 
what  you  will  have  to  do?  You  must  think,  if 
you  please,  of  getting  rid  of  your  love,  of  ceasing 
from  all  pursuits  of  a person  whom  I intend  for 
myself,  and  of  marrying  shortly  the  one  who  has 
been  destined  for  you. 


66 


THE  MISER 


Cle.  [L.  C.]  So,  father;  it  is  thus  that  you 
trick  me!  Well ! since  matters  have  come  to  this 
pass,  I declare  to  you,  that  I will  not  get  rid  of 
my  love  for  Mariane ; that  there  is  nothing  from 
which  I shall  shrink  to  dispute  with  you  her  pos- 
session ; and  that,  if  you  have  the  consent  of  a 
mother  on  your  side,  I have  other  resources,  per- 
haps, which  will  combat  on  mine. 

Har.  [Rising.  ] What,  hang-dog,  you  have 
the  audacity  to  poach  on  my  preserves ! 

Cle.  It  is  you  that  are  poaching  on  mine.  I 
am  the  first  comer. 

Har.  Am  I not  your  father,  and  do  you  not 
owe  me  respect  ? 

Cle.  This  is  not  a matter  in  which  a child  is 
obliged  to  defer  to  his  father,  and  love  is  no  re- 
specter of  persons. 

[Enter  Master  Jacques.] 

Jac.  Eh,  eh,  eh,  gentlemen,  what  is  all  this? 
what  are  you  thinking  of? 

Cle.  I do  not  care  a straw. 

Jac.  [To  Cleante ] Come,  Monsieur,  gently. 

Har.  To  speak  to  me  with  such  impertinence ! 

Jac.  [To  Harp  agon]  Pray,  Monsieur,  pray! 

Cle.  I will  not  bate  a jot. 

Jac.  [To  Cleante]  Eh  what!  to  your  father? 

Har.  Let  me  alone. 

Jac.  [To  Harpagon]  What!  to  your  son?  I 
could  overlook  it  to  myself. 

Har.  I will  make  yourself,  Master  Jacques, 
judge  in  this  affair,  to  show  you  that  I am  in  the 
right. 

Jac.  I consent.  [To  Cleante]  Get  a little 
farther  away. 


THE  MISER 


67 


Har.  I love  a girl  whom  I wish  to  marry ; and 
the  hang-dog  has  the  insolence  to  love  her  also, 
and  to  aspire  to  her  hand  in  spite  of  my  com- 
mands. 

Jac.  He  is  wrong  there. 

Har.  Is  it  not  a dreadful  thing  for  a son  to 
wish  to  enter  into  rivalry  with  his  father?  and 
ought  he  not,  out  of  respect,  to  abstain  from  med- 
dling with  my  inclinations  ? 

Jac.  You  are  right.  Let  me  speak  to  him, 
while  you  remain  here. 

Cle.  [To  Master  Jacques,  who  is  approaching 
him]  Well!  yes,  since  he  chooses  you  as  judge,  I 
shall  not  draw  back ; it  matters  not  to  me  who  it 
may  be ; and  I am  willing  to  refer  to  you,  Master 
Jacques,  in  this  our  quarrel. 

Jac.  You  do  me  much  honour. 

Cle.  I am  smitten  with  a young  girl  who  re- 
turns my  affection,  and  tenderly  accepts  the  offer 
of  my  love : and  my  father  takes  it  into  his  head 
to  come  and  trouble  our  passion,  by  asking  for 
her  hand. 

Jac.  He  is  assuredly  wrong. 

Cle.  Is  he  not  ashamed  at  his  age  to  think  of 
marrying  ? Does  it  still  become  him  to  be  in  love, 
and  should  he  not  leave  this  pastime  to  young 
people  ? 

Jac.  You  are  right.  He  is  only  jesting.  Let 
me  speak  a few  words  to  him.  [To  Harpagon] 
Well ! your  son  is  not  so  strange  as  you  make  him 
out,  and  he  is  amenable  to  reason.  He  says  that 
he  knows  the  respect  which  he  owes  you,  that  he 
was  only  carried  away  by  momentary  warmth; 
and  that  he  will  not  refuse  to  submit  to  your 
pleasure,  provided  you  will  treat  him  better  than 


68 


THE  MISER 


you  do,  and  give  him  some  one  for  a wife  with 
whom  he  shall  have  reason  to  be  satisfied. 

Har.  Ah ! tell  him,  Master  Jacques,  that,  if 
he  looks  at  it  in  that  way,  he  may  expect  every- 
thing of  me,  and  that,  except  Mariane,  I leave 
him  free  to  choose  whom  he  likes. 

Jac.  Let  me  mange  it.  [To  C/Amte]  Well ! 
your  father  is  not  so  unreasonable  as  you  make 
him  out;  and  he  has  shown  me  that  it  was  your 
violence  that  made  him  angry;  that  he  objects 
only  to  your  behaviour ; and  that  he  will  be  very 
much  disposed  to  grant  you  what  you  wish,  pro- 
vided you  shall  do  things  gently,  and  show  him 
the  deference,  the  respect,  and  the  submission 
which  a son  owes  to  his  father. 

Cle.  Ah!  Master  Jacques,  you  may  assure 
him  that  if  he  grants  me  Mariane,  he  will  always 
find  me  the  most  submissive  of  beings,  and  that 
I never  shall  do  anything  except  what  he  wishes. 

Jac.  [To  Harpagon]  That  is  done.  He  con- 
sents to  what  you  say. 

Har.  Then  things  will  go  on  in  the  best  pos- 
sible way. 

Jac.  [To  Clcante]  Everything  is  arranged; 
he  is  satisfied  with  your  promises ! 

Cle.  Heaven  be  praised  ! 

Jac.  Gentlemen,  you  have  but  to  talk  the 
matter  over : you  are  agreed  now,  and  you  were 
going  to  quarrel  for  want  of  understanding  each 
other. 

Cle.  My  dear  Master  Jacques,  I shall  be 
obliged  to  you  all  my  life. 

Jac.  Do  not  mention  it,  Monsieur. 

Har.  You  have  given  me  great  pleasure, 
Master  Jacques;  and  that  deserves  a reward. 


69 


THE  MISER 

[Harpagon  fumbles  in  his  pockets;  Master 
Jacques  holds  out  his  hand,  but  Harpagon  only 
draws  out  his  handkerchief .]  Go  now,  I shall  re- 
member this,  I assure  you. 

Jac.  I kiss  your  hands. 

Cle.  I ask  your  pardon,  father,  for  the  pas- 
sion which  I have  displayed. 

Har.  Never  mind. 

Cle.  I assure  you  that  I regret  it  exceedingly. 

Har.  And  I,  I have  the  greatest  delight  in 
seeing  you  reasonable. 

Cle.  How  good  of  you  to  forget  my  fault  so 
quickly. 

Har.  The  faults  of  children  are  easily  for- 
gotten, when  they  return  to  their  duty. 

Cle.  What ! not  retain  any  resentment  for  all 
my  extravagance? 

Har.  You  compel  me  to  it,  by  the  submis- 
sion and  the  respect  to  which  you  pledge  your- 
self. 

Cle.  I promise  you,  father,  that  I shall  carry 
the  recollection  of  your  goodness  to  my  grave 

with  me. 

Har.  And  I,  I promise  you,  that  you  may  ob- 
tain anything  from  me. 

Cle.  Ah!  father,  I ask  for  nothing  more; 
you  have  given  me  enough  by  giving  me 
Mariane. 

Har.  How ! 

Cle.  I say,  father,  that  I am  too  well  pleased 
with  you,  and  that  I find  everything  in  your 
kindness  in  giving  me  Mariane. 

Har.  Who  says  anything  to  you  of  giving 
you  Mariane? 

Cle.  You,  father. 


7o 


THE  MISER 


Har.  I ? 

Cle.  Undoubtedly. 

Har.  What ! it  is  you  who  have  promised  to 
renounce  her. 

Cle.  I renounce  her ! 

Har.  Yes. 

Cle.  Not  at  all. 

Har.  You  have  not  given  up  your  pretensions 
to  her? 

Cle.  On  the  contrary,  I am  more  determined 
than  every  upon  them. 

Har.  What!  hang-dog,  you  begin  afresh? 
Cle.  Nothing  can  change  my  mind. 

Har.  Let  me  get  at  you,  wretch. 

Cle.  Do  what  you  like. 

Har.  I forbid  you  ever  to  come  within  my 


like. 


sight. 

Cle.  All  right. 

Har.  I abandon  you. 

Cle.  Abandon  as  much  as  you 
Har.  I disown  you  as  my  son. 

*jlCle.  Be  it  so. 

< Aa  Har.  I disinherit  you. 

. Cle.  Whatever  you  please. 

Har.  And  I give  you  my  malediction. 


to 


garden. 


[Exit 


Cle.  I want  none  of  your  gifts. 

La  Fl.  [Coming  from  the  garden  with  a 
casket  under  his  arm]  Ah ! Monsieur,  I find  you 
in  the  nick  of  time ! Follow  me  quickly. 

Cle.  What  is  the  matter?  [Crosses  C.] 

La  Fl.  Follow  me,  I tell  you;  we  are  all 


right. 


Cle.  How? 

La  Fl.  Here  is  your  afifair. 


THE  MISER 


7 1 


Cle.  What? 

La  Fl.  I kept  my  eye  upon  this  the  whole 
day. 

Cle.  What  is  it? 

La  Fl.  The  treasure  of  your  father,  which  I 
have  laid  hands  on. 

Cle.  How  did  you  manage? 

La  Fl.  You  shall  know  all.  Let  us  fly ; I 
hear  his  shouts.  [Exeunt.] 

[Harp agon,  alone,  shouting  in  the  garden,  rush- 
* ng  in  without  his  hat.] 

Thieves ! Thieves  ! Murder ! Stop  the  mur- 
derers ! Justice!  just  Heaven!  I am  lost!  I am 
killed ; they  have  cut  my  throat ; they  have  stolen 
my  money.  Who  can  it  be?  What  has  become 
of  him?  Where  is  he?  Where  does  he  hide 
himself?  What  shall  I do  to  find  him?  Where 
to  run?  Where  not  to  run?  Is  he  not  there? 
Who  is  it?  Stop!  [To  himself,  pressing  his 
own  arm]  Give  me  back  my  money,  scoundrel! 
. . . Ah,  it  is  myself ! My  senses  are  wander- 

ing, and  I do  not  know  where  I am,  who  I am, 
and  what  I am  doing.  Alas  ! my  poor  money ! my 
poor  money ! my  dearest  friend,  they  have  de- 
prived me  of  you;  and 'as  you  are  taken  from 
me,  I have  lost  my  support,  my  consolation,  my 
joy:  everything  is  at  an  end  for  me,  and  I have 
nothing  more  to  do  in  this  world.  Without  you, 
life  becomes  impossible.  It  is  all  over;  I am 
utterly  exhausted ; I am  dying ; I am  dead ; I am 
buried.  Is  there  no  one'who  will  resuscitate  me 
by  giving  me  back  my  beloved  money,  or  by  tell- 
ing me  who  has  taken  it  ? Eh  ! what  do  you  say  ? 
There  is  no  one.  Whoever  he  is  who  has  done 


THE  MISER 


72 

this,  he  must  have  carefully  watched  his  hour; 
and  he  has  just  chosen  the  time  when  I was 
speaking  to  my  wretch  of  a son.  Let  us  go.  I 
must  inform  the  authorities,  and  have  the  whole 
of  my  household  examined ; female-servants, 
male-servants,  son,  daughter,  and  myself  also. 
What  an  assembly ! I do  not  look  £t  any  one 
whom  I do  not  suspect,  and  every  one  seems  to 
be  my  thief.  Eh ! what  are  they  speaking  of 
yonder?  of  him  who  has  robbed  me?  What 
noise  is  that  up  there?  Is  it  my  thief  who  is 
there?  For  pity’s  sake,  if  you  know  any  news 
of  my  thief,  I implore  you  to  tell  me.  Is  he  not 
hidden  among  you  ? They  are  all  looking  at  me, 
and  laughing  in  my  face.  You  will  see  that  they 
have,  no  doubt,  a share  in  the  robbery.  Come 
quickly,  magistrates,  police-officers,  provosts, 
judges,  instruments  of  torture,  gibbets,  and  exe- 
cutioners. I will  have  the  whole  world  hanged; 
and  if  I do  not  recover  my  money,  I will  hang 
myself  afterwards. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  V . 

[Harp agon  and  the  Magistrate.] 

Mag.  Let  me  manage  it ; I know  my  business, 
thank  Heaven.  To-day  is  not  the  first  time  that 
I am  engaged  in  discovering  robberies;  and  I 
should  like  to  have  as  many  bags  of  a thousand 
francs  as  I have  been  instrumental  in  hanging 
people. 

Jac.  [At  the  far  end  of  the  stage , turning  to- 
wards the  door  by  which  he  entered]  I am  com- 


THE  MISER 


73 


in g back  directly.  Let  its  throat  be  cut  immedi- 
ately; let  them  singe  me  its  feet;  let  them  put  it 
in  boiling  water,  and  let  them  hang  it  from  the 
ceiling. 

Har.  Who?  he  who  has  robbed  me? 

Jac.  I am  speaking  of  a sucking  pig  which 
your  steward  has  just  sent  in,  and  I wish  to  dress 
it  for  you  after  my  own  fancy. 

Har.  There  is  no  question  of  that ; and  this 
is  a gentleman  to  whom  you  must  speak  of  some- 
thing else. 

Mag.  [To  Master  Jacques ] Do  not  be  alarmed. 
[Leads  him  down  L.]  I am  not  the  man  to  cause 
any  scandal,  and  matters  will  be  managed  in  a 
gentle  wray. 

Jac.  Is  this  gentleman  of  the  supper  party  ? 

Mag.  In  this  case,  dear  friend,  you  must 
hide  nothing  from  your  master. 

Jac.  Upon  my  word,  Monsieur,  I shall  show 
all  I know,  and  I shall  treat  you  in  the  best  pos- 
sible way. 

Har.  That  is  not  the  question. 

Jac.  If  I do  not  dish  you  up  something  as 
good  as  I could  wish,  it  is  the  fault  of  your  Mas- 
ter Steward,  who  has  clipped  my  wings  writh  the 
scissors  of  his  economy. 

Har.  You  wrretch ! it  concerns  something  else 
than  the  supper ; and  I wish  you  to  give  me  some 
information  respecting  the  money  that  has  been 
stolen  from  me. 

Jac.  They  have  stolen  some  money  from 
you? 

Har.  Yes,  you  scoundrel ; and  I shall  have 
you  hanged  if  you  do  not  give  it  me  back  again. 

Mag.  [To  Harpagon]  Good  Heavens!  do 


74 


THE  MISER 


not  ill-use  him.  [Crosses  to  C.  Between  the 
two.]  I perceive  by  his  face  that  he  is  an  honest 
man,  and  that,  without  having  him  locked  up,  he 
will  inform  you  of  what  you  wish  to  know.  Yes, 
my  friend,  if  you  confess  the  matter  to  me,  no 
harm  will  come  to  you,  and  you  will  be  suitably 
rewarded  by  your  master.  They  have  robbed 
him  of  his  money  to-day;  and  it  is  scarcely  pos- 
sible that  you  do  not  know  something,  of  the  mat- 
ter. 

Jac.  [Aside  to  himself]  This  is  just  what  I 
wish,  in  order  to  revenge  myself  on  our  steward. 
Since  he  has  set  foot  in  this  house,  he  is  the 
favourite ; his  counsels  are  the  only  ones  listened 
to;  and  the  cudgel-blows,  just  now  received,  are 
also  sticking  in  my  throat. 

Har.  What  are  you  muttering  to  yourself 
about  ? 

Mag.  [To  Harpagon]  Leave  him  alone.  He 
is  preparing  to  give  you  satisfaction;  and  I told 
you  that  he  was  an  honest  man. 

Jac.  If  you  wish  me  to  tell  you  things  as  they 
are,  Monsieur,  I believe  that  it  is  your  dear  stew- 
ard who  has  done  this. 

Har.  Valere ! 

Jac.  Yes. 

Har.  He  ! who  seemed  so  faithful  to  me  ? 

Jac.  Himself.  I believe  that  he  is  the  one 
who  robbed  you. 

Har.  And  upon  what  do  you  base  your  be- 
lief? 

Jac.  Upon  what? 

Har.  Yes. 

Jac.  I believe  it  . . . because  I believe  it. 


THE  MISER  75 

Mag.  But  it  is  necessary  to  mention  the  evi- 
dence which  you  have.  [Crosses  C.] 

Har.  [Up  L.]  Have  you  seen  him  hang  about 
the  spot  where  I had  put  my  money? 

Jac.  Yes,  indeed.  Where  was  your  money? 

Har.  In  the  garden. 

Jac.  That  is  just  where  I have  seen  him 
hanging  about,  in  the  garden.  And  what  was 
this  money  in? 

Har.  In  a cash-box. 

Jac.  The  very  thing.  I have  seen  him  with 
a cash-box. 

Har.  And  this  cash-box,  how  was  it  made? 
I shall  soon  see  if  it  be  mine. 

Jac.  How  is  it  made? 

Har.  Yes. 

Jac.  It  is  made  . . . it  is  made  like  a 

cash-box. 

Mag.  Of  course.  But  just  describe  it  a little, 
that  I may  see. 

Jac.  It  is  a large  cash-box. 

Har.  The  one  that  has  been  stolen  from  me 
is  a small  one.  [Crosses  L.] 

Jac.  Eh!  Yes,  it  is  small,  if  you  take  it  in 
that  way;  but  I call  it  large  on  account  of  its 
contents. 

Mag.  And  what  colour  is  it? 

Jac.  What  colour? 

Mag.  Yes. 

Jac.  It  is  of  a colour  . . . of  a certain 

colour.  Could  you  not  help  me  to  say? 

Har.  Ah ! 

Jac.  Is  it  not  red? 

Har.  No,  grey. 


76 


THE  MISER 


Jac.  Yes,  that  is  it,  greyish-red;  that  is  what 
I meant. 

Har.  There  is  no  longer  any  doubt ; it  is  the 
one  assuredly  [ Crosses  with  Mag.  to  table  at  L.] 
Write  down,  Monsieur,  write  down  his  deposi- 
tion. Heavens ! whom  is  one  to  trust  henceforth  ! 
[Jac.  crosses  up  i?.]  One  must  no  longer  swear 
to  anything;  and  I verily  believe,  after  this,  that 
I am  the  man  to  rob  myself. 

Jac.  [To  Harpagon]  He  is  just  coming  back, 
Monsieur.  Do  not  tell  him,  at  least,  that  it  is  I 
who  have  revealed  all  this.  [Drops  L.  of  table] 

[Enter  Valere.] 

Har.  Come  near,  and  confess  to  the  blackest 
deed,  the  most  horrible  crime  that  was  ever  com- 
mitted. 

Val.  What  do  you  wish,  Monsieur? 

Har.  How,  wretch ! you  do  not  blush  for  your 
crime. 

Val.  Of  what  crime  are  you  talking? 

Har.  Of  what  crime  am  I talking,  infamous 
monster ! as  if  you  did  not  know  what  I mean ! 
It  is  in  vain  that  you  acempt  to  disguise  it;  the 
thing  has  been  discovered,  and  I have  just  learned 
all.  How  could  you  thus  abuse  my  kindness,  and 
introduce  yourself  into  my  house  expressly  to 
betray  me? 

Val.  Since  everything  has  been  revealed  to 
you,  Monsieur,  I will  not  prevaricate,  and  deny 
the  matter  to  you. 

Jac.  [Aside]  Oh!  Oh!  could  I unconsciously 
have  guessed  aright ! 

Val.  It  was  my  intention  to  speak  to  you 
about  it,  and  I wished  to  wait  for  a favourable 


THE  MISER 


77 


opportunity;  but,  since  matters  are  so,  I implore 
you  not  to  be  angry,  and  to  be  willing  to  listen 
to  my  motives. 

Har.  And  what  pretty  motives  can  you  ad- 
vance, infamous  thief? 

Val.  Ah ! Monsieur,  I have  not  deserved 
these  names.  It  is  true  that  I have  committed 
an  offence  against  you ; but,  after  all,  my  fault  is 
pardonable. 

Har.  How ! pardonable?  A trap,  a murder 
like  that. 

Val.  For  pity’s  sake,  do  not  get  angry.  When 
you  have  heard  me,  you  will  see  that  the  harm 
is  not  so  great  as  you  make  it. 

Har.  The  harm  is  not  so  great  as  I make  it! 
What ! my  blood,  my  very  heart,  hang-dog ! 

Val.  Your  blood,  Monsieur,  has  not  fallen 
into  bad  hands.  I am  of  a rank  not  to  do  it  any 
injury;  and  there  is  nothing  in  all  this  but  what 
I can  easily  repair. 

Har.  That  is  what  I intend,  and  that  you 
should  restore  to  me  what  you  have  robbed 
me  of. 

Val.  Your  honour  shall  be  amply  satisfied, 
Monsieur. 

Har.  There  is  no  question  of  honour  in  it. 
But  tell  me,  who  has  driven  you  to  such  a deed? 

Val.  Alas!  need  you  ask  me? 

Har.  Yes,  indeed,  I do  ask  you. 

Val.  A god  who  carries  his  excuse  for  all 
he  makes  people  do.  Love. 

Har.  Love  ? 

Val.  Yes. 

Har.  A pretty  love,  a pretty  love,  upon  my 
word ! the  love  for  my  gold  pieces ! 


7§ 


THE  MISER 


Val.  [Drops  I?.]  No,  Monsieur,  it  is  not 
your  wealth  that  has  tempted  me;  it  is  not  that 
which  has  dazzled  me ; and  I protest  that  I have 
not  the  slightest  design  upon  your  property,  pro- 
vided you  leave  me  that  which  I have  got. 

Har.  No,  by  all  the  devils  I shall  not  leave  it 
to  you.  But  see  what  insolence  to  wish  to  keep 
that  of  which  he  has  robbed  me ! 

Val.  Do  you  call  that  a robbery? 

Har.  If  I call  it  a robbery?  a treasure  like 
that ! 

Val.  It  is  a treasure,  that  is  true,  and  the 
most  precious  which  you  have  got,  no  doubt ; but 
it  would  not  be  losing  it  to  leave  it  to  me. 
[Kneels.]  I ask  you  for  it  on  my  knees,  this 
treasure  full  of  charms?  and  to  do  right,  you 
should  grant  it  to  me. 

Har.  I shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  What 
does  it  all  mean? 

Val.  We  have  pledged  our  faith  to  each 
other,  and  have  sworn  never  to  part. 

Har.  The  oath  is  admirable,  and  the  promise 
rather  funny. 

Val.  Yes,  we  have  bound  ourselves  to  be  all 
in  all  to  each  other  for  ever. 

Har.  I shall  hinder  you  from  it,  I assure  you. 

Val.  Nothing  but  death  shall  separate  us. 
[Rises.] 

Har.  It  is  being  devilishly  enamoured  of  my 
money. 

Val.  I have  told  you  already,  Monsieur,  that 
interest  did  not  urge  me  to  do  what  I have  done. 
My  heart  did  not  act  from  the  motives  which  you 
imagine ; a nobler  one  inspired  me  with  this  reso- 
lution. 


THE  MISER 


79 


Har.  You  shall  see  that  it  is  from  Christian 
charity  that  he  covets  my  property ! But  I shall 
look  to  that ; and  the  law  will  give  me  satisfaction 
for  all  this,  you  bare-faced  rogue. 

Val.  [Drops  down  R .]  You  shall  act  as 
you  like,  and  I am  ready  to  bear  all  the  violence 
you  please ; but  I implore  you  to  believe,  at  least, 
that  if  harm  has  been  done,  I only  am  to  be 
blamed,  and  that  in  all  this,  your  daughter  is 
nowise  culpable. 

Har.  Indeed,  I believe  you ! it  would  be 
very  strange  if  my  daughter  had  had  a part  in 
this  crime.  But  I will  have  my  property  back 
again,  and  I will  have  you  confess  where  you 
have  carried  it  away  to. 

Val.  I?  I have  not  carried  it  away  at  all.  It 
is  still  in  your  house. 

Har.  [Aside.]  O!  my  beloved  cash-box! 
[Aloud]  Then  it  has  not  gone  out  of  my  house? 

Val.  No,  Monsieur.  Mistress  Claude  knows 
the  truth  of  this  affair ; and  she  can  testify  to  it. 

Har.  What!  my  servant  is  an  accomplice  in 
the  matter? 

Val.  Yes,  Monsieur:  she  was  a witness  to 
our  engagement;  and  it  is  after  having  known 
the  honourable  intent  of  my  passion,  that  she 
has  assisted  me  in  persuading  your  daughter  to 
plight  her  troth,  and  receive  mine. 

Har.  [Aside]  He?  Does  the  fear  of  justice 
make  him  rave?  [To  Valere]  What  means  all 
this  gibberish  about  my  daughter  ? 

Val.  I say,  Monsieur,  that  I have  had  all 
the  trouble  in  the  world  to  bring  her  modestly 
to  consent  to  what  my  love  wished  for. 

Har.  The  modesty  of  whom? 


* 80  THE  MISER 

l : ! ' 

;Yal.  Of  your  daughter;  and  it  is  only  yes- 
terday that  she  could  make  up  her  mind  to  sign 
a mutual  promise  of  marriage. 

Har.  My  daughter  has  signed  you  a promise 
of  marriage? 

Val.  Yes,  Monsieur,  as  I have  signed  her 
one. 

Har.  O,  Heaven!  another  disgrace! 

Jac.  [To  the  Magistrate]  Write,  Monsieur, 
write. 

Har.  More  harm!  additional  despair!  [To 
the  Magistrate]  Come,  Monsieur,  do  the  duty 
of  your  office;  and  draw  up  for  him  his  indict- 
ment as  a felon  and  a suborner. 

Jac.  As  a felon  and  a suborner. 

Val.  These  are  names  that  do  not  belong  to 
me ; and  when  people  shall  know  who  I am  . . . 

[Enter  Elise,  Mariane  and  Frosine.] 

Har.  Ah ! graceless  child ! daughter  un- 
worthy of  a father  like  me ! it  is  thus  that  you 
carry  out  the  lessons  which  I have  given  you? 
You  allow  yourself  to  become  smitten  with  an 
infamous  thief ; and  you  pledge  him  with  your 
troth  without  my  consent!  But  you  shall  both 
find  out  your  mistake.  [To  Elise]  Four  strong 
walls  will  answer  for  your  conduct;  [To  Valcre] 
and  a good  gibbet  will  give  me  satisfaction  for 
your  audacity.  [Mar.  to  chair  R.  of  table  at  R. 
Fro.  to  chair  at  R.  C .] 

Val.  It  will  not  be  your  passion  that  shall 
judge  this  matter;  and  I shall  get  at  least  a hear- 
ing before  being  condemned. 

Har.  I have  made  a mistake  in  saying  a gib- 


THE  MISER 


81 


bet;  and  you  shall  be  broken  alive  on  the  wheel. 

El.  [At  Harpagon’s  knees]  Ah,  father! 

Har.  No,  no ; I will  hear  nothing. 

Jac.  You  shall  pay  me  my  cudgel-blows. 

Fro.  [Aside.]  What  strange  confusion  is 
this ! [Mar.  to  Fro.] 

[Enter  Anselme.] 

Ans.  What  is  the  matter,  Seigneur  Harpagon  ? 
I find  you  quite  upset. 

Har.  Ah ! Seigneur  Anselme,  I am  the  most 
unfortunate  of  men ; and  there  is  a great  deal  of 
trouble  and  disorder  connected  with  the  contract 
which  you  have  come  to  sign ! I am  attacked  in 
my  property,  I am  attacked  in  my  honour;  and 
behold  a wretch,  a scoundrel  who  has  violated 
the  most  sacred  rights ; who  has  introduced  him- 
self into  my  house  as  a servant  to  rob  me  of  m” 
money. 

Val.  Who  is  thinking  of  your  money,  of 
which  you  make  such  a cock-and-bull  story  ? 

Har.  Yes,  they  have  given  each  other  a 
promise  of  marriage.  This  insult  concerns  you, 
Seigneur  Anselme,  and  it  is  you  who  ought  to 
take  up  the  cudgels  against  him,  and  employ  all 
the  rigours  of  the  law,  to  revenge  yourself  upon 
him  for  his  insolence. 

Ans.  It  is  not  my^intention  to  make  any  one 
marry  me  by  compulsion,  and  to  lay  claim  to  a 
heart  which  has  already  pledged  itself ; but,  as 
far  as  your  interests  are  concerned,  I am  ready 
to  espouse  them,  as  if  they  were  my  own. 

Har.  This  gentleman  here  is  an  honest  mag- 
istrate who  will  forget  nothing,  from  what  he 
has  said  to  me,  of  the  duties  of  his  office.  [To 


8 2 


THE  MISER 


the  Magistrate]  Charge  him,  Monsieur,  in  the 
right  fashion,  and  make  matters  very  criminal. 

Val.  I do  not  see  what  crime  can  be  made 
out  against  me  of  the  affection  which  I entertain 
for  your  daughter,  and  to  what  punishment  you 
think  I can  be  condemned  on  account  of  our  en- 
gagement when  it  shall  be  known  who  I am.  I 
would  have  you  to  know  that  I am  too  upright 
to  deck  myself  with  anything  that  does  not  be- 
long to  me;  and  that  all  Naples  can  bear  testi- 
mony to  my  birth. 

Ans.  Gently!  take  care  what  you  are  going 
to  say.  You  run  a greater  risk  in  this  than  you 
think;  you  are  speaking  before  a man  to  whom 
all  Naples  is  known,  and  who  can  easily  see 
through  your  story. 

Val.  [Proudly  putting  his  hat  on]  I am  not 
the  man  to  fear  anything,  and  if  you  know 
Naples,  you  know  who  was  Don  Thomas 
d’Alburci. 

Ans.  No  doubt,  I know,  and  few  people  have 
known  him  better  than  I. 

Har.  I do  not  care  for  Don  Thomas  nor  Don 
Martin. 

[Seeing  two  candles  burning , blows  one  out.] 

Ans.  Pray  let  him  speak ; we  shall  hear  what 
he  means  to  say  about  him. 

Val.  I mean  to  say  that  to  him  I owe  my 
birth. 

Ans.  To  him? 

Val.  Yes. 

Ans.  Come,  you  are  jesting.  Invent  some 
other  story  which  may  succeed  better,  and  do 
not  attempt  to  save  yourself  by  this  imposture. 

Val.  Learn  to  speak  differently.  It  is  not  an 


THE  MISER  83 

imposture,  and  I advance  nothing  but  what  can 
be  easily  proved  by  me. 

Ans.  What ! you  dare  call  yourself  the  son 
of  Don  Thomas  d’  Alburci? 

Val.  Yes,  I dare,  and  I am  prepared  to 
maintain  this  truth  against  any  one. 

Ans.  The  audacity  is  marvellous ! Learn  to 
your  confusion,  that  it  is  sixteen  years  at  least 
since  the  man  you  speak  of  perished  at  sea  with 
his  wife  and  children,  while  endeavouring  to 
save  their  lives  from  the  cruel  persecutions 
which  accompanied  the  troubles  at  Naples,  and 
which  caused  the  exile  of  several  noble  families. 

Val.  Yes,  but  learn,  to  your  confusion,  you, 
that  his  son,  seven  years  of  age,  with  a servant, 
was  saved  from  the  wreck  by  a Spanish  vessel, 
and  that  this  son,  who  was  saved,  is  the  person- 
who  speaks  to  you. 

Ans.  But  what  other  proofs  than  your  words 
can  guarantee  to  us  that  this  is  not  a fable  based 
upon  truth  ? 

Val.  These  seals  and  my  old  servant  Pedro, 
who  was  saved  with  me  from  the  wreck. 

Mar.  Alas!  to  your  words  I can  answer,  I, 
that  you  are  not  imposing,  and  all  that  you  say 
shows  me  clearly  that  you  are  my  brother.  [Dozun 
R.  to  Valere.] 

Val.  You,  my  sister! 

Mar.  Yes.  My  heart  was  touched  the  mo- 
ment you  opened  your  lips,  and  our  mother,  who 
will  be  overjoyed  at  seeing  you,  has  thousands 
of  times  related  to  me  the  misfortunes  of  which 
you  speak. 

Ans.  Oh  Heaven ! how  great  is  the  evidence 
of  thy  power  ! and  how  well  sh'owest  thou  that 


84 


THE  MISER 


it  belongs  only  to  thee  to  perform  miracles ! Em- 
brace me,  my  children,  and  share  your  joys  with 
those  of  your  father.  [To  R.  C.  Val.  crosses 
to  L.  of  Anselme  and  embraces  him.] 

Mar.  It  is  you  whom  my  mother  has  so  much 
bewailed. 

Ans.  Yes,  my  daughter,  yes,  my  son,  I am 
Don  Thomas  d’Alburci,  whom  Heaven  saved 
from  the  waves,  with  all  the  money  which  he  car- 
ried with  him,  and  who,  believing  you  all  dead 
during  more  than  sixteen  years,  prepared,  after 
long  journeying,  to  seek,  in  the  union  with  a 
gentle  and  discreet  girl,  the  consolation  of  a new 
family.  The  little  safety  which  I found  for  my 
life  in  Naples,  has  made  me  for  ever  abandon  the 
idea  of  returning,  and  having  found  means  to 
sell  all  that  I possessed  there,  I became  used  to 
this  place,  where,  under  the  name  of  Anselme, 
I wished  to  get  rid  of  the  sorrows  of  this  other 
name,  which  caused  me  so  many  misfortunes. 

Har.  [To  Anselme ] Is  this  your  son? 

Ans.  Yes. 

Har.  Then  I hold  you  responsible  for  paying 
me  ten  thousand  crowns  of  which  he  has  robbed 
me. 

Ans.  He  has  robbed  you! 

Har.  Himself. 

Val.  Who  tells  you  this? 

Har.  Master  Jacques. 

Val.  [To  Master  Jacques]  Is  it  you  who  say 
this?  [Crosses  below  L.  of  table.] 

Jacq.  You  see  that  I say  nothing.  [Around 
R.  to  Harp.] 

[Ans.  and  Mar.  down  R.  talking  with  Fro.  R. 

! ' •>  of  table.]  , . ; : 


THE  MISER  85 

Val.  Can  you  believe  me  capable  of  so  base 
an  action?  [Elise  comes  to  him.] 

Har.  Capable  or  not  capable,  I want  my 
money  back  again. 

[Enter  Cleante  and  La  Fleche.] 

Cle.  Do  not  worry  yourself  any  longer, 
father,  and  accuse  no  one.  I have  discovered 
tidings  of  your  affair;  and  I have  come  here  to 
tell  you,  that  if  you  will  make  up  your  mind  to 
let  me  marry  Mariane,  your  money  shall  be  re- 
turned to  you. 

Har.  Where  is  it? 

Cle.  Do  not  grieve  about  that.  It  is  in  a 
spot  for  which  I answer ; and  everything  depends 
upon  me.  It  is  for  you  to  say  what  you  resolve ; 
and  you  can  choose,  either  to  give  me  Mariane, 
or  to  lose  your  cash-box. 

Har.  Has  nothing  been  taken  out? 

Cle.  Nothing  at  all.  Now  make  up  your 
mind  whether  you  will  subscribe  to  this  mar- 
riage, and  join  your  consent  to  that  of  her 
mother,  who  leaves  her  free  to  choose  between 
us  two. 

Mar.  [To  Cleante]  But  you  do  not  know 
that  this  consent  is  no  longer  sufficient ; and  that 
Heaven  restores  to  me  not  only  a brother  [point- 
ing to  Valere]  but  also  [pointing  to  Anselme] 
a father,  from  whom  you  must  obtain  me. 

Ans.  Heaven  has  not  restored  me  to  you,  my 
children,  to  go  contrary  to  your  desires. 
[Crosses  L.  to  Harp.]  Seigneur  Harpagon,  you 
are  well  aware  that  the  choice  of  a young  girl 


86 


THE  MISER 


will  fall  upon  the  son  rather  than  upon  the 
father;  come,  consent,  as  I do,  to  this  double 
match.  [Cle.  and  Mar.  drop  down  i?.] 

Har.  I have  no  money  to  give  my  children 
in  marriage. 

Ans.  Well ! I have  some  for  them ; do  not 
let  that  trouble  you.  [Goes  above  table  R.,  Harp, 
following , dozvn  to  Val.  and  Elise.  Fro.  back  of 
chair  R.  by  table.] 

Har.  Will  you  undertake  to  deiray  all  the 
expenses  of  these  two  weddings? 

Ans.  Yes,  I undertake  it.  Are  you  satisfied? 

Har.  Yes,  provided  that  you  will  order  me  a 
suit  for  the  nuptials. 

Ans.  That  is  agreed.  Let  us  go  and  rejoice 
in  the  happiness  which  this  day  brings  us. 
[Crosses  C.] 

Mag.  Hullo ! gentlemen,  hullo ! Gently,  if 
you  please.  Who  is  to  pay  for  my  writing  ? 

Har.  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  writ- 
ings. 

Mag.  Yes!  but  I do  not  pretend  to  have 
written  for  nothing. 

Har.  [Pointing  to  Master  Jacques]  For  your 
payment,  there  is  a man  of  whom  I make  you 
a present ; and  you  may  hang  him.  [Throws  him 
across  to  C.] 

Jac.  Alas!  how  must  one  act?  I get  cudgel- 
blows  for  speaking  the  truth ; and  they  wish  to 
hang  me  for  telling  a lie ! [Mag.  and  Jac.  up  to 
garden.] 

Ans.  Monsieur  Harpagon,  you  must  forgive 
him  this  imposture. 

Har.  Will  you  pay  the  magistrate,  then  ? 
[ Crosses  C.  to  Anselme.] 


THE  MISER 


87 


Ans.  Be  it  so.  [To  Mar.  and  Valere]  Come 
let  us  go  quickly  to  share  our  joy  with  your 
mother. 

Har.  And  I,  to  see  my  dear  cash-box.  [L. 
to  Frosine.] 

CURTAIN. 


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